


Lost in the Sauce or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Thedas

by Angus_McFife_XIII



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Bull is Cool, But he's still a spy, But it's not too huge, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Modern Character in Thedas, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 64
Words: 347,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angus_McFife_XIII/pseuds/Angus_McFife_XIII
Summary: Erik Andersen didn't want this to happen. He was perfectly content to live his life on Earth and serve in his military. But apparently fate had other plans. Now he's an unwilling religious figure alongside a woman that's just as confused about all this as he is, and to make matters worse he knows what the future holds.Evelyn Trevelyan didn't want this to happen either. She got blown up and now there's a magic sewing machine on her hand that fixes the Veil. Plus, she's a religious figure in a paramilitary organization, alongside a strange man that claims he's from another world. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Hawke/Isabela, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Leliana (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s), Leliana (Dragon Age)/Original Male Character(s), Male Cousland/Morrigan (Dragon Age)
Comments: 377
Kudos: 216





	1. Dazed and Confused

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna go out on a limb and post this, even if it ends up being hated. I know this trope has been beaten to death in so many forms, but I just can't find it in myself to care. I'm a sucker for these kind of things, and I'm using this as a writing exercise to improve myself. If you have constructive feedback, feel free to leave it; I'm always looking for new ideas.
> 
> The original character is an amalgamation of my dad and a very good friend I lost a few years ago in Afghanistan. Dragon Age was both our favorite game franchise, and Inquisition was his favorite game in the series so far. This is a way for me to honor his memory. Erik, the OC, will be competent enough to survive and thrive, as he's already seen enough combat to stay alive in dangerous situations. If it seems too Mary/Gary Sue, sorry.

Despite his frequent use of the term, Staff Sergeant Erik Andersen had only ever truly been “lost in the sauce” three times in his life. The first time was the longest; he was dazed and confused the entire time he took calculus. It had, to quote him “kicked his fucking ass”. The second was his first firefight in Syria, or, more specifically, the first few minutes of his first firefight, before he got his act together and figured it out.

The third was when he woke up chained to the floor of a cold, medieval-style stone cell next to a woman with a glowing green hand and no memory of how he got there.

It was something out of a game or one of the countless fanfictions he shamelessly pored over in his impatience for the next Dragon Age title. It had to be a dream. He would wake up any moment now and prepare for his next day in the team room and forget to call and cancel his massage membership for the third week in a row.

The problem was that every instinct was telling him that this was not, in fact, a dream. Everything was too vivid, the ground was too cold, and his knee hurt too much for it to be a dream. His knee never hurt in his dreams.

Dream or not, he didn’t really like being in prison. It reminded him too much of SERE school, and he hated SERE. He tested out the manacles around his wrists. Despite their slightly rudimentary appearance, they were sturdy, and he didn’t have anything on him to file them down with. Even if he did, he’d have nowhere to go. Despite the sinking feeling that he knew exactly where and when he was, there was no telling the world outside was exactly how he remembered it on his computer screen. It almost certainly wasn’t. The guard in the corner was giving him an odd look; he really should have noticed him sooner, honestly.

Erik sighed and looked at the sleeping woman next to him. She was about his age, and despite the eerie green light that was cast on her features, she was quite pretty. Her auburn hair was splayed across the stonework haphazardly, and her delicate nose twitched slightly as she slept. He belatedly realized that she could be mistaken as his sister, if he had one. She seemed to be about his age, but he couldn’t really tell. He looked older than he really was, anyways, a feature he partly attributed to being shot at for a living, which he found to be quite stressful.

The green mark on the woman’s hand sparked and crackled then and her eyes shot open in shock and pain. She drew in a sharp breath and drew herself to her knees, cradling her left hand in her right as she doubled over in pain.

“Shit. You alright?” He asked lamely as he shifted himself closer to her. It was a stupid question. Clearly she was in pain.

“What… where? Where am I? What happened?” She asked, ignoring his question.

“Hell if I know. I woke up shackled to the floor about five minutes ago. I don’t even know where we are.” That was a lie. He was slowly coming to the conclusion that he knew where he was, and that feeling in his gut was not helping the case against his conclusion.

“I… I can’t remember--” her statement was cut off as the door flew open violently. Two women stepped into the room with purpose and poise.

“Fuck,” he swore. He was staring at the Right and Left Hands of the Divine, and they were absolutely not happy.

Cassandra Pentaghast was a striking woman in the flesh. She was tall, nearly as tall as he, with short hair ringed with a braid around her crown. The scar on her cheek was less pronounced than he remembered,  but the visage of rage painted on her face was just as he recalled. She began pacing around them predatorily, but he knew she wouldn’t kill them. She needed them. Or, at least, she needed the woman.  


“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you both now,” she began in a harsh, almost German accent, “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except you two.”

Erik stared directly into the woman’s fury and pain-filled eyes, a blank look on his face. “I truly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The woman next to him had a completely different reaction. Her eyes shot open in shock, horror, and fear, her lower lip trembling slightly. “What do you mean everyone is dead?”

Erik painted a visage of grim realization on his face. “You think we did it.”

“Explain this!” Cassandra violently grabbed the chained woman’s left hand and yanked it skyward. The mark sparked lamely on the woman’s palm as if sheepishly introducing itself.

“I… I can’t,” she said quietly.

Cassandra’s scowl grew even deeper. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there,” the woman responded, more resolutely than before. Cassandra turned her gaze on Erik, who merely shrugged.

“I don’t even know where I am, much less what’s going on with her hand.”

“You’re lying!” Cassandra threw the woman’s arm toward the ground and seemingly wound up to strike one of them. The woman in chains flinched slightly at the gauntleted hand reared back, but it was caught by a third hand.

The second woman stepped forward, her face no longer obscured in shadows. “We need them, Cassandra.” 

Sister Leliana was classically beautiful in every sense of the word. Her blue eyes shone with the pain of loss and grief despite the steely mask she had resolutely set across her face. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were a rosy tint, likely from the damp chill in the air. She clasped her hands behind her back and stood before the two.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” she asked the chained pair.

The woman’s face scrunched up in thought and concentration. “I remember running. Things were chasing me. And then… a woman?”

“A woman?” Leliana leaned back in surprise.

“She reached out to me, but then…”

Leliana turned her gaze toward Erik. “And you?”

“Ah, shit, let’s see,” he said, racking his mind for his last memory, “I was at the range, waiting for my friends to show up. It was my day off and I decided to do some shooting with my friends. I got to the range and was getting everything out. That’s the last thing I remember. I probably would have had a bag and a weapon with me. It would have looked like a metal crossbow without the arms. Did you find me with anything like that?”

Leliana raised an eyebrow. “We did, but I could not place its origins, nor what any of the objects on your person were.”

Erik sighed lightly. He had brought a rifle on an interdimensional field trip, and it was currently in the hands of the greatest spy in Thedas. Things were going along swimmingly.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. Take the man with you. I will take her to the rift.”

Leliana nodded and produced a key from a pocket, swiftly unlocking Erik’s manacles. “Come with me,” she said coolly.

It took him a minute to realize Leliana had not bound his hands, which meant one of two things. Either she believed she could handle any threat he could throw at her, or she was much more stupid than he had thought. Erik chose to believe the former.

Sister Nightingale led him directly out of the Chantry and toward her tent. Erik, however, stopped dead in his tracks three paces out the Chantry’s front door. He noticed a few things, then. First, it was not as cold as he’d anticipated. It was only snowing lightly, and the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds. Second, Haven was much bigger than Bioware had decided to depict. Third, the Breach was pretty damn big and pretty damn unnerving to look at. Finally, he concluded that he was, indeed, no longer on Earth.

“We call it the Breach,” Leliana explained, noticing that he had stopped, “It’s a rift into the Fade, a hole in-”

“I know what a tear in the Veil looks like. That’s just… a really big hole.”

Leliana smirked slightly despite the situation. “Quite big. It’s getting bigger, as well. If it continues to grow, it will eventually swallow the world. We theorize that the mark on your accomplice’s hand can close it, but we don’t have much time.”

“She’s not my accomplice,” he denied, shaking his head, “I’d never seen her before waking up in that dungeon, and I had nothing to do with this travesty.”

The spymaster raised an eyebrow. “No? Prove it,” she gestured toward her tent, and saw his weapon, bag and belt under guard.

“Help us get to the valley alive, and I will be more inclined to believe your story.”

He slowly approached his gear, hyper-aware of the master bard’s eyes on him at all times. He tentatively grabbed his rifle before turning toward the Nightingale.

“Do you mind if I use my own weapon? I’m not used to swords or daggers or anything of the sort.”

She sighed. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice. Two combatants are better than just one, and I can't risk you being a hindrance. Make one move out of line, however, and it will be your life. I do not give two warnings.”

Erik nodded. “Understood.” He quickly ran over the weapon, which was still in pristine condition, optic and all. The battle belt went on next, and he ran a hand over each loaded magazine, making sure they were there. He reached into his bag next and grabbed his hearing protection, placing them over his head and switching them on with a beep. The sound coming out of the Peltor headset was clear and crisp. His gloves went on, and he zipped the bag up and placed it back in the tent. He nodded, loaded a magazine into the weapon and yanked the charging handle back with a satisfying clacking sound, slinging the weapon around his neck and shoulders.

“Well, then, let’s go. We’re losing daylight.”

The spymaster was clearly surprised at the efficiency, but nodded once and grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows. “This way,” she said, leading him towards the gate in the distance.

“Can you hear me with that… thing on your head?” she asked in her lilted accent.

“Perfectly.”

“You may encounter hostility from the villagers and some of the soldiers. They have decided your guilt, and the woman’s. The Conclave was the last chance for peace, and with Divine Justinia dead, that is now gone,” she explained, sorrow filling her voice.

Erik was stricken by her grief. He knew about Leliana’s relationship with Justinia; it was likely as painful as losing a family member. He knew the pain well enough to empathize.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Leliana’s eyes darted toward Erik briefly before fixing themselves forward once more. “Thank you.”

They crossed out of Haven and onto the road leading out toward the valley.

Despite the chainmail overshirt Leliana was wearing, the master bard moved quickly. Had Erik not been used to running around god-forsaken hellholes for the majority of his twenties, he would have likely been a hindrance. As it was, he easily kept her pace and followed her in silence for a half hour. The route was slightly different than the one he knew the Herald and Cassandra would take. Leliana took him over higher ground, likely to bypass the rift that the other pair would inevitably encounter. All things considered, the hike would have been rather boring, if not for the ever-looming Breach, the Nightingale’s all-seeing eyes, and the voice in his head screaming _Holy fuck how did we get here this is ridiculous_.

Another complication arose when they encountered a group of three soldiers fighting for their lives against Shades and Wraiths. He only had a moment to examine their forms, their wrongness as they moved and attacked the soldiers ahead of them, before muscle memory took over and he jumped into action. Erik flicked the selector switch with his thumb and brought the weapon to his shoulder, zeroing in on each demon through his rifle’s optic and quickly putting two rounds into each with the distinct crack of gunfire that he was so used to. The demons all fell and disintegrated into steaming puddles in the snow. He trotted forward, letting the weapon rest against his chest.

“You guys all good? Anyone hurt?” he called out as he approached.

The soldiers all stood in stunned silence, staring at him and his weapon.

“What… what is that?” one asked in awe.

“I would like to know the same thing,” Leliana said behind him. He turned to find a slight scowl on her face as she rubbed her left ear canal with her finger.

“I should have warned you. This thing is loud. It’s why I’m wearing the muffs,” Erik explained sheepishly.

“Enough about that, my hearing will recover. I want to know what kind of weapon is capable of killing four demons as quickly as that.”

“It’s called a rifle. You can interrogate me about it when we get out of this shitshow,” he absently replied, quickly doing a visual sweep of each of the soldiers for injuries and finding none.

“So the prisoner is the one giving orders now?” she asked. His heart skipped a beat as he turned back around toward her, realizing there was a slight smirk on her face.

“Really more of a suggestion than anything,” he responded with a smile, “You can interrogate me right now if you want, I wouldn’t object.”

“You aren’t really in a position to object,” she snapped. Her features softened slightly and she continued, “But I agree. Let us focus on the task at hand.”

Erik nodded. “No injuries, they’re fine.”

The spymaster nodded. “Let us continue, then.”

“Right behind you.”

As they moved away, he heard one of the soldiers speak up, “Prisoner? That was one of the Divine’s murderers?”

Erik sighed and caught up with Leliana, who was moving a bit more quickly now.

“Sorry if I jumped into action too quickly, there,” he offered to his jailor as they moved on.

A raised eyebrow was her response. “On the contrary, I appreciate it. You probably saved their lives, all things considered.”

“Yeah, well,” he sighed, “Demons are assholes.”

She made no response. He extended his hand to her. “I’m Erik, by the way.”

She looked at the extended hand for a moment before clasping it with her own. “Leliana.”

They encountered no more resistance as they made their way to the forward camp. The gates were open, shockingly, and there was no rift in front of the battlements. They made their way through with little fanfare and had a minute to breathe before a scout found Leliana and delivered some report or another. Erik glanced around at the wounded as he walked. He was no medic, but he knew enough to keep someone alive to get them to one. As it was, however, nearly all the injuries he saw were either beyond his skill or had already been seen to. He let his mind wander as he gazed up at the hole in the sky.

How the hell did he get here? Was this just a really, really vivid dream or did he actually get dragged across time and space and dropped into a fantasy world that he’d been playing around in on a computer for the better part of a decade? How the hell did he survive the explosion at all, and why did he remember even less than the soon-to-be Herald? He could almost hear the screams of fanfiction authors everywhere.

“So this is one of the murderers,” a smug voice brought him out of his stupor. He turned to find himself face-to-face with the ultimate tool himself, Roderick.

“This is one of the prisoners,” Leliana responded on Erik’s behalf.

“Then why is he not in chains? Why have you not shipped him off to Val Royeaux for trial and execution?”

“Because neither of those sound fun?” Erik supplied.

Leliana shot him a look. “We have a plan to seal the Breach. Cassandra and I decided to split up and each take a prisoner. She took the other, the one with the mark, to a smaller rift to test our theory before meeting with us here.”

Roderick began fuming. “No. Absolutely not. I order you to place this mass murderer in chains to await his execution.”

Leliana turned to face the small man fully. “I do not answer to you, Chancellor.”

“We have one of Divine Justinia’s murderers right here! We need to-”

Roderick’s ranting was cut off by a loud snap that filled the air. Green light filled the area just outside the battlements, and soldiers began rushing toward the gate and the rift that had just opened beyond it. Without thinking, Erik sprinted toward the battlements and climbed to the top, situating himself on a box next to a row of archers. The instant the first wave of demons came pouring out and the archers let off a volley, he began to open fire on the denizens of the Fade.

After five rounds, he realized that none of the archers were loosing arrows; they were all staring at him and his weapon. Erik let out an exasperated sigh.

“Are you going to stare or are you going to help your buddies fighting demons down there?” They shook themselves out of their shock and began firing upon the monstrosities once more.

Three waves later, his first magazine went dry. He cursed and loaded a fresh one as the rift seemed to calm momentarily. He waited for a moment, then two. More demons crawled out of the rift, and he started dropping demons once more, all thoughts but ruthless efficiency out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter will be named after a song I enjoy, because titles are hard. I'll leave links to the song the title comes from in each of the end notes in case you want to listen to it, as well as any other music that's referenced in the chapter.
> 
> This chapter is named after Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO2n7QoyieM
> 
> Any dialogue from Dragon Age Inquisition is owned by Bioware and EA, not the lazy author.


	2. Down From the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn tries to close the Breach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the Herald's POV. It'll alternate between Erik and Evelyn's POVs from here on out, sometimes sharing a chapter, sometimes having one to themselves. I'll add asterisks for POV changes mid-chapter.

If Evelyn Trevelyan could completely focus on anything, she would ask her companions to stop their bickering. As it was, it was all she could do to ignore the throbbing pain that was marching up her palm and into her forearm. It seemed to pulse in time with the Breach overhead, she noticed, although it hadn’t sent a jolt of pure agony up her arm since her initial ascent from Haven with the Seeker.

She had heard about Seekers in the Ostwick Circle. One appeared at the Circle some ten years ago following the Blight, when she was still in her teens and only two years past her Harrowing. She hadn’t seen much of him, and only heard rumors of his investigation; he had arrived to purge blood mages from the circle before another Kinloch could happen, he was there to investigate rumors of corruption in the relatively tame Templars in Ostwick, he was simply there to stop and rest while on an even greater mission. She had only heard rumors of rumors about what the Seekers actually were. Her friends claimed they were anything from the Chantry’s secret police force to some type of super-Templar.

Looking at Cassandra, however, all she could see was a hurt woman hiding her pain under a mask of rage. It was evident in every swing of her blade as they fought their way through lesser demons and toward the forward camp. It was evident in every step she took and every word she shot at the sarcastic, relaxed dwarf they had picked up.

Speaking of the dwarf, Evelyn had taken an immediate liking to Varric Tethras. The dwarf seemed to take the tension out of the entire situation with a few choice words and a few well-placed jabs at the militaristic Seeker, who had apparently kidnapped him some months back and interrogated him. She knew who he was, of course; his novels were legendary in the Circle, and though Swords and Shields had been banned for consumption in their gilded cage, a few copies floated around regardless, which she eagerly and shamelessly devoured. Not to mention his ties to the Champion of Kirkwall, who had inadvertently been at the start of this whole mess  three years back. His skill in combat was not to be discounted either, and he had probably saved her life twice since they had met.

Her final tag-along, Solas, was a complete enigma. Neither Dalish nor City Elf, and clearly a skilled mage despite being a true apostate. He dismissed that label, as well. “Technically, all mages are apostates now,” he had said, and she supposed he was right. He seemed to be right about a great number of things, the biggest being his hypothesis that her mark could close rifts. It was a unique experience, unlike any she had felt before, both relieving and painful at the same time, much like biting down on a sore tooth. She mentally noted that she needed to learn as much as she could about these Fade rifts and the mark from the older elf when she got out of this ordeal. If she got out of this ordeal.

The mark on her hand crackled to life once again, sending biting pain up her arm and nearly into her shoulder. Evelyn stumbled to her knees, letting out a gasp of pain as she did so. Her vision swam green for a moment before returning to normal. She felt the Seeker’s hands on her arms, helping her back up to her feet.

“Hold on. We haven’t much farther,” she reassured. Evelyn grit her teeth and continued to press forward.

Five more minutes and they approached a gateway, and her heart dropped into her stomach as Cassandra shouted, “Another rift!”

“We must seal it, quickly!” Solas called back.

Quickly was right. The soldiers on the ground were clearly tired, and there was no telling how long they had been fighting the demons crawling out of the rift. A strange cracking noise from the battlements above the gatehouse marked the death of a demon, as though it had not been touched at all. She shook the thought from her head and readied the ramshackle staff she had found lying on the frozen river and prepared a fire spell in her mind’s eye, zeroing in on a straggler in the group of shades that had poured fresh from the Fade.

A short but pitched battle was the prelude to the rift calming temporarily, and Solas called out from somewhere beside her.

“Hurry! Use the mark!” She didn’t question the advice, instinctively holding her palm to the hole in reality and allowing it to connect before yanking it away violently as the rift closed with a slightly wet pop.

“The rift is gone! Open the gate!” Cassandra called up to the battlements with a soft sigh of relief.

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful,” Varric offered as he walked past her and toward the opening gate.

Evelyn laughed bitterly. “I only wish there weren’t a need for it at all.”

Truthfully, Evelyn was exhausted. The minor sparring events during her time at the Ostwick Circle and the ensuing chaos following its fall did not prepare her for full-fledged combat in any way, and she slumped gracelessly onto a crate as the Seeker approached the other woman she saw in the dungeon upon her awakening.

A lyrium potion was pressed into her field of view from her left. She looked up. The man standing before her was tall and clearly had the body of a soldier. His dark red hair was slicked back and to the right with a slight curl, and his brown eyes shone with kindness. He seemed to be slightly older than she, and apart from the eyes, she could easily see him being mistaken as her older brother, if she still had one. His weapon was unlike any she had ever seen before, longer than a crossbow and without the arms or drawstring, with a curved piece of strange material sticking out the bottom halfway down its length. His clothes were even stranger than the almost familial resemblance: his pants were a light tan and of a material she had never seen before, and his shirt had short sleeves and read something in Tevene lettering, with the image of a robed man holding a lantern and four symbols below the name. Even stranger still were the tattoos running down the length of his exposed left arm, more intricate than anything Antivan craftsmen could produce and depicting several different events she couldn’t place. If he was affected by the frigid mountain air, he did not show it.

“Thank you,” she said graciously, taking the potion and downing it in one motion.

“No problem. I’m just glad to see you made it up here in one piece,” he responded kindly in an almost dwarven accent. Something twitched in the back of her mind and she did a double take, examining his face once more.

“You! You were in the dungeon with me. That other woman took her with you before we left.”

“That’s me. Leliana and I took a shorter route up here to avoid the rifts. We were successful, too, before that one decided it wanted to appear at the gates,” he explained in a relaxed tone.

“Do you know what’s happening? Who is that man the Seeker and Leliana are speaking with?”

“His name’s Roderick,” he explained with clear disdain, “Chancellor of the Chantry, or some pompous title of the sort. Total fuckhead. Wants us executed in Val Royeaux, which I am absolutely not about.”

She was taken aback by his nonchalant attitude at the situation and didn’t respond. He glanced over to the two arguing women and then back towards Evelyn.

“We should honestly head over here. Think you’re okay to walk?” he asked, extending a hand.

She nodded, gripping his hand with a wince as his fingertips brushed the mark on her left hand. “I was just a bit tired, is all. I’ve never fought this much in my life.”

“I understand. It’d be taxing for anyone, and you have that mark on your hand. Can't be easy,” he said as they sauntered over to the table harboring the argument before lapsing into silence once more.

“I’m Evelyn, by the way,” she offered.

“Pretty name,” he smiled, “I’m Erik. You’re from… Ostwick?”

“How can you tell?”

“Accent,” he explained with a wry smile, “It’s definitely Marcher, I just couldn’t quite place the exact city. Markham was my next guess.”

Any response she could have supplied was immediately cut off by the man Erik had called Roderick.

“Ah, here they come,” the man said with clear disdain as he crossed his arms.

“You made it,” a hooded, redheaded woman Evelyn deduced was Leliana sighed in relief, “Chancellor Roderick, this is–”

“I know who she is. The other murderer,” he cut her off, turning to Cassandra, “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

“‘Order me’? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” Cassandra spat

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana countered.

Roderick threw his hands up in clear exasperation. “Justinia is dead! We must elect her replacement, and obey her orders on the matter.”

“Or you could stop being a prick for one second and realize that if we don’t get Evelyn to the Breach, it’ll consume the world,” Erik countered harshly.

Roderick sputtered for a moment before regaining his composure. “You two brought this on us in the first place!”

“Lies and slander,” Erik muttered jovially in Evelyn’s ear. She couldn’t help but suppress the giggle that rose in her throat. Luckily, it went unnoticed. 

“Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless,” Roderick advised.

Cassandra shook her head. “Erik is right. We can stop this before it’s too late.”

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the temple,” the Seeker countered, “It’s the quickest route.”

Leliana shook her head, “But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky,” the taller woman argued, gazing up to the mountain pass.

“Listen to me. Abandon this now, before more lives are lost,” Roderick urged, throwing in his unwanted opinion.

The mark chose that precise time to act up once more as the Breach expanded again. Evelyn stumbled but was gently caught by her fellow prisoner. She regained her footing quickly and bit back the pained grunt that had formed in her mouth.

“How do you think we should proceed?” Cassandra asked as she looked her in the eye.

Evelyn laughed bitterly despite herself. “Now you’re asking me what I think?”

“You have the mark,” Solas supplied.

“And you are the one we must keep alive,” Cassandra concluded, “Since we cannot agree on our own…”

She glanced at Erik, whose eyes quickly darted to the mountain path in a clear but discreet message. She made her decision, not quite knowing why she trusted the man.

“Use the mountain path,” Evelyn concluded with as much confidence as she could muster, “Work together. You all know what’s at stake.”

Cassandra closed her eyes in resignation and turned toward the hooded woman. “Leliana. Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

She nodded once and turned towards Erik. “Come with me.” He followed without question, glancing back once and giving Evelyn a reassuring smile and wink.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” Roderick warned.

Traversing the mountain path ended up being the right choice, in the end. Not only did they save a group of stranded scouts and soldiers, they had also managed to close a rift on the way.

Evelyn graciously accepted the soldier’s thanks and moved onward, ignoring the odd looks Cassandra was giving her as they moved along the narrow path toward the ruins of the Temple.

“So… holes in the Fade don’t just accidentally happen right?” Varric asked once they were clear of the danger.

Evelyn sighed. “If enough magic is brought to bear in one location, it is possible.”

“But there are easier ways to make things explode,” the dwarf suggested.

Solas laughed grimly. “Much easier ways, my friend.”

“I’m glad we’re of the same mind here, Chuckles,” Varric supplied facetiously.

They lapsed into silence once more and met no further resistance as they traversed the narrow path. Eventually they came to an area of charred rubble and freshly collapsed walls. Moving further in, Evelyn could see bodies everywhere, too many to count. They were all charred and frozen in place, some on their knees, some covering their faces, and some cowering behind walls. They were all emaciated and charred black, like some grim art piece. She fought the urge to throw up on more than one occasion.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas declared.

“What’s left of it,” Varric murmured grimly.

Cassandra appeared next to Evelyn and pointed to an area that may have once been a courtyard, now charred and blasted. “That is where you and Erik walked out the Fade and our soldiers found you. They said a woman was in the rift behind you both, but no one knows who she was.”

Evelyn wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she simply swallowed and moved on through what was once a hallway, deliberately avoiding turning her gaze to the bodies everywhere. They finally came to the ruins of the main chamber, and her stomach began to churn uneasily.

There was a rift here, different in two ways. First was its size, dwarfing the other rifts at least threefold. Second was the fact that it was inert and sending a tendril of green light into the Breach above, which seemed far more menacing this close.

“The breach is a long way up.”

She heard a voice painted with a light Orlesian accent call from behind them. “You’re here! Thank the Maker.” Leliana trotted toward them, Erik trailing a few paces behind, his face set as if stone and completely unlike the kindness he had shown at the forward camp.

Cassandra turned to her counterpart. “Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Leliana nodded and gestured for Erik to follow.

The Seeker turned back to her, grim determination in her eyes. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

Evelyn swallowed nervously and glanced up at the churning nausea machine in the sky. “I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can reach that, much less close it.”

Solas shook his head and approached her left side, pointing to the rift near the ground. “You don’t need to reach it. This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

Cassandra nodded. “Then let’s find a way down. And be careful.”

Leliana returned, still with Erik in tow, and gave a slight nod to Cassandra. The six of them began to make their way across the walkway and towards the rift.

The strange, red lyrium did not help. She knew it was lyrium, for raw lyrium had always made her nauseous when she was around it. But the red stuff was worse. She had heard about it from Kirkwall, but it was far worse in person. It almost sang to her, but the song was all twisted, like a chorus singing slightly off key. A glance at Erik showed that he fared little better.

“ **Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.** ” The sudden, deep voice made her jump in shock. And four more heads whipped around to find the source. Erik, suspiciously, simply pursed his lips and closed his eyes, almost looking sorrowful.

Cassandra was the first to speak. “What are we hearing?”

“At a guess: The person who created the Breach,” Solas ventured. He looked as troubled as Evelyn felt, but it truly wasn’t hard to see why.

A few more minutes passed before they passed another patch of red lyrium crystals and Varric spoke up. “You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.”

“I see it, Varric,” she responded tersely.

“But what’s it doing here?” he asked, audibly distressed.

“Magic could have drawn upon lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…” Solas suggested.

“It’s evil,” Varric cut the elf off, clearly distressed, “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

Voices rang out once more from the ether.

“ **Keep the sacrifice still.** ”

“ _Someone help me!_ ” A heavily accented voice called.

Leliana and Cassandra’s eyes shot wide. “That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” the latter sputtered in shock. Evelyn’s heart flipped in her chest. Could the Divine be alive?

Her heart fell again when she counted the dozen or so skulls scattered near them by the stairs, and she remembered that she and Erik were the only two survivors they had found. 

“ _Someone help me!_ ” Justinia’s voice called once more.

“What’s going on here?” her own voice shouted back from the ether, warbly and slightly off.

Cassandra turned to her, clearly confused. “That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But…”

The mark flared painlessly as they walked toward the rift, and a spectral image appeared before them like a moving picture.

Divine Justinia was suspended in the air while by magic, wrapped around her arms as if she were about to be drawn and quartered. A large, dark figure with menacing red eyes loomed over her. Then Evelyn threw the door to the chamber open

“ _What’s going on here?_ ” her ghostly image shouted.

Justinia looked at her in terror. “ _Run while you can! Warn them!_ ” she shouted in fear.

“ **We have an intruder. Kill her. Now,** ” the dark mass pointed towards her spectral self.

Then something completely unexpected and completely unheard of occurred. A flash of green light appeared next to Evelyn, and Erik stumbled forth from thin air. He looked disoriented and had a pack over his shoulders, weapon in hand.

“ _What in the hell…_ ” he began, quickly taking in his surroundings. His eyes met the dark figure’s, and a wry, angry smile snaked across Erik’s features.

“ _Oh! Buenos dias, fuckboy!_ ” the man's visage called out. Then the image vanished.

Cassandra spun to her, anger flashing across her features. “You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…?”

“I don’t remember!” Evelyn sighed exasperatedly. She truly had no memory of what happened.

Cassandra sighed and turned on Erik. “And you! What was that you called to the being holding Justinia?”

“‘Buenos dias’ is ‘good day’ in Antivan, though I don’t know what… ‘fuckboy’ refers to,” Leliana explained, her critical eyes turned on Erik, who was truly doing a good job of holding in a laugh.

“It means exactly what it sounds like, Leliana,” Erik responded, twisted humor fading from his eyes, “But to answer your burning question, if I remembered what had happened there, I would tell you.”

Cassandra turned to Solas. “Was this vision true? What were we seeing?”

The elf shrugged. “Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.” He approached the rift, examining it as he walked a wide circle around the hole in the air. 

“This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily,” he explained, “I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

Cassandra drew her weapon. “That means demons. Stand ready!”

Erik calmly sauntered over to her, checking something on his weapon. He leaned down to her height.

“Pride demon, other lesser things, are about to come through that rift,” he murmured into her ear, “Stand strong. We’re all with you.” He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled before stepping back a few paces.

Evelyn blinked a handful of times, debating silently whether she could believe him. He seemed calm and confident in his assumptions, but even still, there was no way he would be  certain that would come through the rift. She pushed the thoughts from her mind and raised her mind, willing the rift to open.

As soon as it did she regretted doubting Erik.

A massive pride demon manifested itself just outside the rift, cackling with glee. It six eyes darted across the field, taking in its prey with a smile as several shades and terror demons crawled from the Fade.

Before she could even think to attack several deafening cracks rang through the air, and a handful of the terror demons and shades were dead. Cassandra cut another shade down with a precise slash through its torso, while three arrows suddenly were quivering from another terror demon. Evelyn blinked and jumped into action, calling on her connection to the Fade and willing lightning to arc out from her staff. The pride demon seemed unaffected by it and laughed at her futility. She calmed her spark of fury at its mocking and threw bolts of fire at the demon instead. Its arms immediately caught flame and the stench of burning flesh filled the air.

She could vaguely hear the shouts of battle around her and the cracks of Erik’s strange weapon. The pride demon lunged for Evelyn and attempted to squash her as she tried to move out of the way. Too slow. She shut her eyes and anticipated the blow, but it never came; a wave of protective magic washed over her, and she opened her eyes to the shimmering blue form of a strong barrier around her. She glanced around to find Solas, who gave her a slight nod and slung another bold of ice a shade.

Evelyn decided to press this temporary advantage as she threw every fire spell she knew at the monster before her. It seemed to shrug off most of her attacks, until she heard a voice call out from across the field.

“Quickly! Disrupt the rift!”

Evelyn didn’t think about the order; she dove between the demon’s massive legs and thrust her hand toward the Fade rift, her mark connecting with the tear in the Veil. A second later and the rift let out a ripple through the air as the pride demon turned back toward her. She scrambled to her feet just as the wave met the demon, which staggered to its knees, stunned.

Then two of its eyes exploded with sharp snaps, and a crossbow bolt met a third. The demon threw its head back and roared in pain. Cassandra sprinted forward and swung her blade at the demon’s arm, severing its tendons in another howl of anguish. Evelyn froze its feet to the ground as it rose and Cassandra slashed at its knees, buckling it once more. Three more cracks from Erik’s weapon and its head was thrown forward. Cassandra drove her sword through the bottom of its jaw, and the monstrosity tumbled to the side before disintegrating back into the rift.

“Now! Seal the rift!” Cassandra shouted. Erik sprinted to her side, his face covered in ichor. Evelyn shot her hand toward the rift.

Evelyn’s world exploded into pain, closing off all other thoughts from her mind. She buckled to one knee, her left hand locked above her head as she battled the will of the heavens. A bead of sweat began to trickle down her brow, and she began to wonder if this task would kill her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. A quick glance found Erik kneeling beside her, an encouraging smile on his face. It was all she needed. Evelyn pushed through the pain and forced the rift to  _ close _ .

She felt a shockwave, and the light of the world was lost to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is taken from Down From the Sky by Trivium - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wf9W-WyGaI4
> 
> The shirt Erik is wearing is the classic hermit/Zoso Led Zeppelin shirt. 
> 
> As always, any dialogue taken from the game belongs to Bioware, not this lazy asshole.


	3. Scrying Through Shattered Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets a job interview and tries to figure out what world state he's in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unholy amount of exposition and dialogue incoming.

Erik was blown off his feet by the blast, landing on his back a few feet from where Evelyn fell. He quickly drew himself up and trotted over to her prostrate from. Erik gently turned her on her side and checked her for wounds; the mark was pulsing softly, in sync with her shallow breaths. A small cut was on her forehead, and her already pale skin was sheet white and clammy, covered in sweat..

“I need a healer!” he called. Solas, the Dread Wolf himself, was beside him not a second after he called out. He passed a hand over Evelyn’s unconscious form.

“She will recover. The rift simply took a great deal of energy from her. I anticipate she will awaken in a few days,” he declared.

“Good, because we’re gonna need her again,” Varric’s raspy voice spoke from behind Erik. He turned his eyes up toward the rift and the Breach overhead. The halo in the sky looked far less angry, and the rift itself looked completely inert, if still partly open. The tendril of green magic no longer dangled from the Breach to the rift like the most fucked up rope in existence, and the green clouds overhead spun slowly but calmly.

“It did not work,” Cassandra spoke sadly. Solas stood and approached the rift. He examined the Veil tear and the Breach above.

“It may not have worked entirely, but the Breach is stable,” the ancient elf explained, “It will not grow from its current size unless this rift is forced back open.”

“So…” Leliana began.

“Evelyn bought us more time to find another solution,” Eric cut her off, “Do we have a litter or anything to carry her with? We need to get off this mountain.” Silence met his request, along with a few bewildered looks.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he huffed, clearing his rifle before wordlessly thrusting it into the air. A hand grabbed it; he didn’t care whose it was. He drew the unconscious Herald’s torso from the ground, putting his head under one of Evelyn’s arms and one around another leg, hoisting her onto his shoulders. She was far lighter than many of the men he had carried for hundreds of meters in full combat gear to landing zones in Afghanistan and elsewhere, but he doubted he would be able to comfortably carry her the entire way down the mountain.

"Are we done here for now?” Erik asked.

Leliana nodded, holding his rifle awkwardly in her hands. “I’ll have my agents coordinate with Cullen and set up a guard of the Breach. Erik is right, we need to get out of the temple.”

Cassandra nodded resolutely and took point, barking a few orders to the soldiers on the battlements. They quickly formed a guard on either side of the diverse party as they made their way up the stairs and out of the temple.

Leliana was still holding the rifle rather awkwardly, so he shuffled toward her. “Hold it by the base of the barrel,” he gestured toward the slip ring just past the magazine well, “It’ll make carrying it easier.”

She nodded, adjusting her grip on the weapon and letting it drop to her side before glancing at Erik.

“You performed admirably today,” she said in a conversational tone.

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you don’t think I started this whole mess?”

She paused for a moment, clearly in thought. “I do not,” she finally spoke, “Nor do I think Evelyn is guilty, either. I’ll have to speak with Cassandra when we reach Haven.”

Erik nodded. “Still want to question me more thoroughly?” he asked.

“Yes,” the Nightingale affirmed, “But not here. Wait until we reach Haven.”

“Understood.“ They lapsed into silence, marching across the open expanse where they could have charged toward the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Cullen was there; Erik could see his fur mantle from a hundred meters away. The blond man was doling out orders to what looked like his officers.

“Cullen!” Cassandra shouted. The Commander glanced their way briefly before turning back to his officers and dismissing them and striding toward them.

“What happened?” he began, “Why isn’t the Breach sealed?”

“The mark was not enough. It nearly killed its bearer. She did, however, manage to stabilize it. We have time to plan for a second attempt.”

“And the other prisoner?” he asked.

“Right here,” Erik called, shifting Evelyn’s weight slightly on his shoulders. He glanced at the former Templar briefly. His in-game visage was almost perfect to what he truly looked like, though his blond hair was slightly curlier and slicked to his forehead with sweat. Had Erik been drawn to his full height and not hunched with Evelyn on his back, he suspected they would have been about eye to eye.

“Erik fought admirably, Cullen, and as well as any soldier I’ve seen,” Cassandra confirmed, “I no longer have reason to believe he was involved with the explosion, nor do I believe Evelyn was involved.”

“Evelyn?”

“The mark-bearer. The woman Erik is currently carrying,” Leliana explained.

He nodded and walked to Erik’s left. He turned to the Commander.

“Cullen, right?”

The Fereldan nodded. “Yes?”

“I might need you to take her at some point,” he said, adjusting his grip on Evelyn’s leg, “She’s pretty light, but it’s going to suck if I have to carry her all the way down the mountain.”

Cullen blushed slightly. “I, ah, don’t know if that would be proper…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, man, you’re saving her life, not carrying her off to bed,” Erik snapped, “I swear, you Fereldans and your propriety…” He heard Leliana laugh slightly to his right, a light and melodious thing that made his stomach flutter.

“If you won’t carry her, can someone find me a damn stretcher?” he sighed.

They had reached the forward camp, and two soldiers rushed for an empty litter.

“Thank fucking _god_ ,” Erik sighed as his bad knee barked in anger. His relief was short-lived, however, as he eyed Roderick waddling over to their little group.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Chancellor began, “Why is the Breach still open? Why are the prisoners still-”

“Shut up,” Erik grunted as he dropped to a knee to place Evelyn gently on the stretcher. He heard Varric let out a raspy belly laugh as he moved to the head of the litter, gesturing for Leliana to hand him his rifle; she handed it over wordlessly.

“So now we give murderers weapons?” Roderick drawled, crossing his arms and shifting his weight.

Erik reinserted his magazine and racked a round. “Look bud, I know you’re upset about the Conclave. We all are. But right now we have to get the woman that just saved all your asses back down to Haven so she can get medical attention, and I’ll be damned if we run into demons on the way without a weapon.”

He slung the weapon and counted to three, hoisting the stretcher to waist level and marching forward.

“Soldiers, I order you to arrest this murderer!” the Chancellor shouted at the gathering crowd, pointing to Erik.

“Disregard the Chancellor,” Cullen’s voice rang out behind him, matching Erik’s pace quickly as their procession moved out of the forward camp and down the path to Haven.

Erik didn’t get a lot of thinking done on the way down the mountain. His focus was more on scanning for angry demons than _H_ _oly shit I’m carrying the future Inquisitor down a mountain_ _what even is life_. They only encountered one roaming pack of demons on the way down, which were dispatched by the platoon of soldiers accompanying them before he could even get a shot off. They moved silently and quickly, with Solas checking Evelyn’s status every few minutes. All in all, it took less than thirty minutes to traverse the mountain and arrive at the front gates of Haven, which were opened as soon as the guards saw their little convoy arriving. Erik and Cullen passed the unconscious Evelyn off to Adan and his assistants, and he yanked his Peltors off with a sigh of exhaustion. His magazine was removed, and the round in the chamber ejected. Already a crowd began forming around them, asking a hundred questions at a hundred miles per hour. A flash of bright gold and blue pushed its way through the crowd and approached them.

Josephine Montilyet was not a tall woman. She stood over a foot shorter than Erik yet her poise and grace would have made her stand out in a crowd, even without her trademark golden dress. Her deeply bronzed skin spoke of a far warmer climate than the one in Haven, and her amber eyes were kind and warm.

“What happened? Why is the Breach open?” she asked in a vaguely Italian accent.

“The prisoners risked their life to seal it,” Cassandra declared, “The Breach is not closed, but it is stable and is no longer an immediate threat. The one with the mark, Evelyn, nearly died in the process. As of this moment, both are released from our custody.”

Josephine nodded, glancing toward Erik’s face and then quickly to his tattoos. “I shall see that they have the proper lodging and amenities, then.”

“Josie, we need to speak with you. Come with us, if you will,” Leliana said lightly; the steel in her eyes did not match her tone.

The Antivan nodded once. “We can speak in my office.”

Leliana murmured something to a scout and grabbed Erik’s arm, leading him through the crowd swiftly. They were in the Chantry before the crowd had even dispersed, and he was quickly pulled into Josephine’s office. Cassandra, Josephine, Cullen and Leliana immediately formed a small circle in the office as soon as the door was closed. Erik sighed once more and unclipped his battle belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter; his rifle was propped up on a wall.

“This is a disaster,” Cullen groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“What… happened on that mountain?” Josephine asked.

“That is what we are here to discuss,” Leliana responded resolutely, turning her gaze to Erik.

He should have expected to be immediately interrogated, to be honest. The fact that he didn’t slightly irked him, but he sighed and flopped unceremoniously into a chair, giving a gesture with his hand as he did so.

“What do you want to know?” he asked wearily.

“You literally appeared from thin air,” Cassandra stated, although it sounded more like a question.

“Wait. He _what_?” Cullen asked, slightly bewildered.

“We received a vision of the events immediately leading to the explosion,” Leliana explained in a detached tone, “It began with Divine Justinia held captive by a shadowy figure before Evelyn burst in, immediately followed by Erik here literally appearing in a burst of light and shouting ‘buenos dias, fuckboy’ to the figure holding Justinia captive.”

Erik bit back a laugh. It was still wild to him that he was even here to begin with, but the fact that he had _actually_ shouted “buenos dias, fuckboy” to Corypheus was the icing on the cake. The ambassador’s shocked look at his comment was almost too much to bear, making his effort to hold in his laugh twice as hard.

“Explain how you came to the Conclave,” Cassandra demanded.

He shrugged. “I can’t.”

All four others blinked. “You can’t as in you don’t remember?” Josephine asked.

“No, as in I shouldn’t be here,” Erik clarified, “This is either the most vivid dream ever, or I somehow broke the laws of physics on my day off and teleported here from another world.”

Blank looks of confusion covered every face in the room as they each sat down in a chair.

“That makes no sense. The Maker created only one world,” Cullen began.

Erik shook his head. “My people have suspected that there are multiple worlds for almost seventy years, now. There’s evidence to support it,” he paused before continuing, “Besides, it’s safe to reason that any god that created one world would create another, don’t you think?”

“I… I suppose, but what makes you think this is a dream?” Josephine said after a long moment.

Erik paused and thought about his response. “I’m trying to think of a way to say this without making me look like a lunatic,” he admitted.

“I watched you and that woman physically fall from the Fade,” Cullen declared, “That hasn’t been done since the Second Sin, so I doubt anything you’ll say will make me think you’re insane.”

Erik sighed in resignation. “All right. You, Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra, and everyone else in this world are fictional characters where I come from.”

“You’re insane.” Erik laughed at Cullen’s immediate response.

“I told you.”

Leliana leaned forward, her face impassive. “Let us entertain this notion for a moment. You say we are all fictional in your world. It goes to reason that you would know things about us that almost no one else knows. So prove it.”

“Prove it?” Erik asked in slight shock.

“Prove it,” the Spymaster repeated, “Tell each of us something no one else would know, unless you read about it in some fictional story.”

He had to hand it to her. Leliana was extremely intelligent. “Who do you want me to start with?” The Left Hand leaned back in her chair and spread her arms in a challenging gesture. Erik smiled and thought for a moment.

“You aren’t Orlesian,” he began. Leliana’s eyes widened. “You were _born_ in Orlais, to a Fereldan serving girl of Lady Cecilie Vasseur named Oisine. Your mother died when you were four, and Cecile raised you from then. While you were a bard working with Marjolaine, a man named Raleigh-”

“Stop,” she held up a hand and shook her head, her skin paler than normal but her face once more neutral, “I have heard enough. Unless you met Warden-Commander Cousland, and he betrayed our friendship, those are things no one should know about me. And not even him, with that last one.”

Erik nodded, gleaning more information than he thought he would from Leliana’s declaration. The Hero of Ferelden was alive, and he was a Cousland. Interesting.

“I am still not convinced,” Cassandra decided.

“I agree,” Cullen said gruffly, “The whole idea seems preposterous.”

Erik turned his gaze to Cullen and gave a wry smile. “Write Mia. She’s getting worried.”

Cullen’s jaw dropped open. “What did you say?”

“Who is Mia, Commander?” Josephine said jeeringly.

“My sister, back in Honnleath. I haven’t written to her since…” he shook his head. Erik turned his gaze to Cassandra and thought about what he could say that wouldn’t completely upset her. The perfect idea crawled into his head.

“Since I’m stuck in Thedas,” he began with a grin, “I’m going to need new reading material. Is Swords and Shields any good?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “They’re terrible. And _magnificent_. If you’re-” she stopped mid-sentence and narrowed her eyes at the offworlder.

“You will _never_ say a word to the dwarf.”

Erik laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“What about me?” Josephine asked with a look of almost morbid curiosity. Erik thought for a moment more before raising an eyebrow and standing up, walking behind her desk and opening each drawer. When he reached the second, he found what he was looking for. A small, painted porcelain doll dressed in a satin dress was gazing back at him. He smirked at the Antivan, who moved faster than he expected the small woman would and quickly closed the drawer. Leliana gave her friend an odd look before smoothing her features once more.

“So,” Josephine said, slightly flustered, “We’ve established that you know things about us that you shouldn’t know. What does this mean?”

Erik sat back down. “It means I can help you.”

“How?” Cassandra asked suspiciously. Erik turned his gaze toward her.

“I know you’re about to restart the Inquisition off of the decree of Justinia,” he said calmly. Everyone in the room froze; Leliana’s eyes quickly darted to the door and back.

“How?” Cullen asked, clearly still trying to wrap his mind around the whole situation.

Erik sighed and furrowed his brow in thought. How should he explain it? It’s not like they would understand the concept of video games. Or any device that ran off electricity for that matter.

“I’m going to have to make an analogy, here, since my world would be too alien for you to comprehend,” he explained, receiving odd looks, “Do you have those books here that have multiple different outcomes? Like, ‘if you chose this, go to page 87, and from there you need to choose something else?”

“Yes, those are children’s books,” Cassandra said slowly. Erik rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Well, some of them decidedly _aren’t_ in my world,” Erik explained, “And in my world, your world is one of those stories. One of my favorites. Except many of the events aren’t set in stone. They change based on who’s reading it. This changes what happens in the future, which changes what _I_ know of the future. The story of this world, of _you_ _all_ , is called _Dragon Age_ in my world. It spans from the end of the Ferelden rebellion to several years from now.”

“So you have knowledge of future events,” Leliana surmised.

“Yes.”

“Care to share?”

“No.”

Leliana blinked in surprise. “Why not?”

“What would have happened if someone told you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they knew Marjolaine would betray you? That if you went on that mission in Denerim, it would go horribly wrong and you would wind up in prison?”

“If they had proof, I would have either killed Marjolaine or cut all ties and returned to Orlais,” Leliana said calmly.

“And then you would have never met Dorothea, meaning you would have never met Cousland and fought with him during the Blight, and you would have never been asked by Dorothea to become her Left Hand when she became Divine Justinia. Meaning you wouldn’t be in this room right now.” He didn’t add _meaning the Inquisition would never come to pass_ , but they both knew it was true regardless.

Realization spread across her face. “Seemingly small events, even just knowing them, can affect the future in major ways.”

He spread his hands. “Exactly. I can’t tell you what will happen, but as an event approaches, I can help you prepare for it and get the outcome most desirable to you. I can warn you if you’re about to make a monumental mistake. I’ll try to prevent specific things from happening. But I can’t tell you anything resolute.”

“How far into the future does your knowledge extend?” Cullen asked.

“Shit, let me think… until at least 9:44 Dragon, probably a bit longer. There was a new book that had just been released but the timeline wasn’t clear. It probably took place in 9:45 or 46, but I can’t be sure.”

“You said monumental mistakes,” Leliana murmured, her gaze once more cool, “How monumental are our potential mistakes?”

He thought for a moment. “There are events in the next several years that will determine the future of Thedas for centuries, if not longer.”

“What do you want in exchange?” she asked immediately.

He blinked at Leliana. “What?”

“In exchange for your aid,” she explained, “What do you want? This knowledge must come at a cost to us.”

“Honestly all I want is your protection. Shit’s about to get pretty wild, and I’m completely lost in the sauce right now. I can kill people pretty well, but I don’t really know how to live in a world like this. My world is hundreds of years more advanced than anything your world has; no one had lived like this since before my country was even founded.”

Cassandra cocked her head. “Does that advancement include your magic?”

“Magic doesn’t exist in my world.”

A chorus of “What?” followed that declaration.

“Magic does not exist where I’m from,” he explained, “The extent of it is parlor tricks. We relied on technology far more advanced than anything you’ve even dreamed of. Magic has nothing to do with it. Elves, or qunari, and dwarves don’t exist either. Well, dwarves _do_ exist, but it’s a physical condition, not a race of beings. They’re still human, they’re just really short.”

“I… I can’t even picture a world without magic,” Cullen said, his head shaking.

“I can’t really picture one _with_ magic,” Erik muttered. They lapsed into silence for a brief minute before he broke it once more. “There is one thing I need.”

“That being?” Josephine asked.

“I need the history of Thedas for the last ten years,” Erik declared, “Or, specifically, the Blight and everything that happened with Hawke.”

Leliana cocked her head. “Why? What do you need that information for if you know everything about us?”

“Like I said, past events change future events,” Erik explained calmly, “Certain events in our future may be drastically different depending on what Hawke and The Warden chose during their respective crises. I won’t completely know what will happen unless I know those events. It’s a bit like scrying through shattered glass, to be honest.”

Leliana was silent for a moment before nodding once. “Very well. I’ll try to answer any questions you may have. You may want to ask Varric Tethras for more details on Hawke.”

“Thank you. Care if I borrow some ink and paper, Josephine?”

Josephine stood and moved toward her desk but froze as she reached for a drawer. “I never told you my name.”

Erik laughed and gave her a wink. He knew they were going to be disturbed by his knowledge, and it was honestly fun to watch four very competent people squirm ever so slightly.

“That is… extremely unsettling,” the Antivan admitted as she handed the paper, quill, and ink to Erik.

“Just wait. It’s about to get outright disturbing,” he muttered, leaning the paper on the desk and dipping the quill in ink. It was slightly different from holding a pen, but the nib was about as thick as a pencil, and he was certain he’d adjust quickly.

“Okay, first off, you said that the Hero of Ferelden is a male Cousland?”

Leliana blinked. “Of course. Could Aedan have been something different?”

“Warden-Commander Duncan had several places he could choose to go for a potential recruit, but he only had enough time before Ostagar to recruit from one of those places,” he revealed, “From what I understand, the Hero of Ferelden could have been male or female, a dwarf casteless or noble, a Dalish elf, a City elf from Denerim, a mage from Kinloch Hold, or a human noble, like he turned out to be.”

He could see it on her face: the Bard was trying to wrap her mind around her friend, and potentially lover, being literally anyone.

“Would they have still acted the same?” she asked in a bewildered tone.

Erik thought about all the choices and things The Warden could say. “Honestly, I have no idea. No two versions of the Grey Warden that ended the Fifth Blight are the same, from what I’ve encountered.” Her face twisted for a moment before becoming impassive once more, no doubt trying to imagine what her friend would be like as a completely different person.

“Moving on. Kinloch Hold. Did Cousland save Irving or annul the Circle?”

“He saved Irving, though it took some convincing from myself and Wynne,” Leliana admitted. Honestly, Erik didn’t blame Cousland. There was no knowing whether the rest of Kinloch was vulnerable, and abominations running rampant during a Blight is not a complication one wants to have.

He sighed and jotted the notes down. “The dwarven crisis of succession. Did he side with Branka or Caridin?”

“We agreed it would be best for the Anvil to be destroyed, if that’s what you’re asking,” Leliana explained, “Although, looking back, it may not have been the best choice. The morally right one, undoubtedly, but not the best for the greater good.”

“Had you kept the Anvil you would have lost Shale,” Erik said bluntly, “But I agree. Without the Anvil the dwarves are going to have a much rougher time with Darkspawn. Who did the crown go to?”

“Bhelen, though I doubt that was the right choice, either. He is almost despotic in his use of power.”

“The ends justify the means with Bhelen. We would call him Machiavellian in my world. There was no right choice, but had Harrowmont taken the throne, Orzammar would have slid backwards into tradition and cracks would have begun to form in its foundations.”

Leliana’s deep blue eyes narrowed. “I thought you couldn’t tell us the outcomes of any of these key events.”

“I can’t tell you the outcomes of any key events that _haven’t happened yet_ ,” Erik corrected, “These events happened a decade ago. It’s safe to talk about them.

“Moving on. The Dalish. Zathrian or The Lady of the Forest?”

“The Lady. Zathrian died to lift the curse.”

He jotted down a few quick notes, remembering that Hawke would have to deal with some repercussions of that decision. “Redcliffe. I’m going to assume you defended the village. How did you deal with Connor?”

“We debated for at least an hour,” Leliana reminisced, “Morrigan, Zevran, and Sten argued that it was too risky to leave him and go to Kinloch for the mages and lyrium, while Wynne, Alistair and I argued that Eamon would likely not be appreciative of waking up to find his holdings ravaged by Blight and undead and his wife deceased. Aedan was too high strung at that point to care, Shale couldn’t care less about the ‘fleshy things’ and Oghren wasn’t with us at the time. Eventually, it was decided that we would not sacrifice a life with Jowan’s suggestion, and a raven was sent to Kinloch Hold by Aedan explaining the situation. We couldn’t leave Connor lest he wreak more havoc, but the cost of Jowan’s ritual was too high. In the end, Jowan went into the Fade himself to kill the desire demon.”

Erik paused halfway through writing to process what Leliana had just said. The truth was near enough to the story he knew for the outcome to be inconsequential, but the details were different. Had he been dreaming, he reasoned, his mind would likely have not conjured such a complicated explanation; no, he was really in Thedas, and his heart sunk slightly at the thought.

“Is something wrong?” Cassandra asked when she noticed Erik’s troubled look.

“That, more than anything, gave me evidence that this _isn’t_ a dream,” Erik admitted, “From what I understood, Aedan Cousland’s party left Redcliffe and traveled to Kinloch Hold in person, which was always ridiculous to me. But a dreaming mind would almost certainly not create such a detailed explanation for that event.”

The other four gave him a minute to regain his footing. He took a deep breath and continued on.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“The Ashes remained pure,” Leliana said, a twinge of sorrow crossing her lips at the remembrance of the loss of the Temple.

“Is Alistair king?” She nodded once.

Erik took a deep breath. Here was the big one. “Who killed the Archdemon?”

Leliana blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Who struck the final blow against Urthemiel?”

“Aedan did,” Leliana confirmed. Erik felt his heart drop into his stomach. He didn’t like the direction this was heading.

“And Aedan Cousland is still alive?”

“Yes, and wed to Morrigan,” Leliana said slowly, “They have a son together, conceived sometime toward the end of the Blight, although I have only met him once, when I became Justinia’s Left Hand and Aedan came to Val Royeaux to congratulate me.”

Erik dropped his head in his hands and took a deep breath. “Fuck.”  
Josephine was clearly confused. “Is something wrong?”

He laughed bitterly. “Aedan either made the greatest decision in the history of Thedas or the biggest mistake.”

The room went deathly silent. Cullen stared at him in shock, and Josephine’s dark complexion paled several shades in fear. Cassandra looked morbidly enthralled at Erik’s secret knowledge, while Leliana went full Nightingale. Her face became completely emotionless as she stood.

“We must ward this room,” she said as she strode out the door.

Cullen leaned forward. “What do you mean, ‘the biggest mistake in history’?” Erik glanced at the open door.

“It isn’t safe to explain until Leliana returns from whatever she’s doing. I promise I’ll explain when she comes back in here.”

They didn’t have to wait long. The Spymaster returned quickly with a polished, grey stone, some engraving etched deep into one side. The door closed gently behind her and she placed the stone engraved side up in the center of the office before sitting back down. As she did, a wave of silence washed over them and reached the walls.

“A silencing rune. A gift from Sandal, some years ago when I met him in Kirkwall when Bodhan worked for Marian Hawke,” Leliana explained to the puzzled group, “No one will hear this conversation.”

“I request the Cone of Silence,” Erik murmured with a smile.

“What?” Cassandra asked.

“You wouldn’t get it,” he waved her off, “Back to the most important decision Aedan Cousland made in his life.”

“You said it was either the greatest decision or worst mistake in history,” Leliana reminded him.

Erik knew he was playing with fire, and chose his words carefully. “Do you know why Grey Wardens are the only ones that can end a Blight?”

“I always assumed it was exaggeration,” Cullen admitted, “A testament to the skill of the Wardens in combating Darkspawn.”

“As did I,” Cassandra admitted. Erik shook his head.

“There are secrets I will take with me to my grave, and I will not give all the details of what transpired before the Battle of Denerim, but suffice to say, only Grey Wardens can kill Archdemons. Anyone else kills one and it merely reforms, which is why it took so long to slay Dumat during the First Blight.”

“But what did Cousland do?” Cullen asked.

“As I said, there are some secrets I will take to my grave. There is nothing anyone can do about it now. The die is cast. Our cards have been dealt. We can only pray that whatever the outcome, he didn’t make our future more difficult.”

“You will not tell us?” Leliana demanded, her eyes daggers.

He shrugged one shoulder. “If you’re so desperate to find out, write him. Ask him the full story.”

Leliana's normally impassive visage seemed troubled. “I haven’t heard from him in a year. I try not to worry, but…”

“He’s looking for a cure for the Calling. That’s all I’ll say. Ask a Grey Warden if you don’t know what that is.” After a long bout of definitive silence, he made a bold note at the bottom of his page and underlined it. He glanced up to find four suspicious glares aimed at him.

“Please. I know you’ve known me for a grand total of half a day, but I’m asking you to give me the benefit of the doubt. There’s nothing that can be done that won’t make it worse, so the best thing you can do is trust that everything will make sense in time.”

“This is a massive leap of faith, you realize,” Leliana pointed out.

“True, but this is coming from the woman that saw the Maker in a single rose on a dying branch and was right. If you can do that again it will save you a world of trouble.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you say?” she asked in shock.

A knock at the door interrupted her shock. The door opened slightly, and a lithe, blonde elf with a pair of the most intelligent green eyes Erik had ever seen leaned through the doorway. Charter, he realized.

“Pardon me, Mistress Nightingale, but we’ve brought the male prisoner’s personal belongings in here for your interrogation,” she explained calmly as she placed his bag into the room.

“This is not an interrogation,” Cassandra said firmly.

A ghost of a smirk passed Charter’s lips. “Of course not, Seeker Pentaghast,” she said as the door closed behind her.

“This isn’t an interrogation… is it?” Josephine asked nervously.

“If it is, it’s the most relaxed one I’ve ever been at the receiving end of,” Erik muttered as he reached for his bag. The Nightingale’s gloved hands stopped him as she took the bag for herself.

“Been part of many interrogations, have you?” Leliana asked slyly.

Erik merely shrugged. “It was part of my job. I’ve been at both ends of an interrogation, and I had to be trained how to resist one in order to effectively take part in one.”

“You were a spy, then?” Cullen asked stiffly, a muscle in his neck jumping slightly.

“I was a soldier,” Erik clarified, “Just a very special one. We were literally called Special Forces. People called us the Green Berets, for the headgear we wore in garrison uniforms.”

“What did these Special Forces do?” Cullen asked, suddenly much more interested in Erik’s personal background.

“Whatever needed to be done to accomplish whatever mission we were given,” the offworlder explained, “Typically, by, with and through our partner forces in whatever country we were working in. Special Forces were the only unconventional warfare experts in our military. We would teach the locals, train them, and help them lead an insurgency against their government, which was typically working against our own.

“We would gather our own intelligence, make our own connections, and clandestinely deploy in twelve man teams to do our jobs. We were trained in diplomacy, interrogation, tactics, reconnaissance, direct combat actions, counter-terrorism, foreign internal defense, foreign languages and insurgency warfare to complete whatever mission our government deemed necessary for us to complete.”

“You were soldiers and spies,” Leliana summarized.

He nodded. “Yes, and I often worked more closely with my own country’s spies than I did my country’s conventional soldiers, meaning I understand all your fields better than you realize,” he declared.

“How many years did you serve?” Cullen asked.

“Eight years, though two of those were dedicated to my training for Special Forces.”

“And you have seen combat?”

Erik nodded, “I’d say I’ve seen a total of three years of combat, if you put together all my deployments.”

Cullen’s tactical mind was clearly in full gear. “I want him as my second in command along with Rylen,” Cullen said, turning back to the three women in the room.

“Not so fast, Cullen. If he has worked with insurgencies as closely as he claims, he may be more suited to work with myself and Charter,” Leliana retorted.

“If I may,” Josephine said to her colleagues, “This man has training in all three of our fields, but that does not connote the expertise of any of us. If we cannot agree on who he should work with, perhaps he would work best as a consultant to our operations.”

Erik shrugged. “That’s kind of what I was guessing would happen. I don’t have Cullen’s large scale military expertise, nor Leliana’s knowledge of a spy network’s operations, nor your skills in diplomacy, Josephine. I was hoping to be an… advisor to the advisors, for lack of a better term.”

The four Theodosians glanced about themselves before Cassandra spoke up. “I agree with Erik and Ambassador Montilyet. He may not be an expert at any, but he has knowledge of all. Coupled with his apparent knowledge of our futures and pasts, I believe an advisory role is best suited for Erik.”

“Very well,” Cullen nodded.

“Moving on,” Leliana continued, “There is the matter of your personal belongings, Erik. We investigated them while you were unconscious but could not determine what any of them were.”

She opened the zipper on the bag and carefully began laying out its contents on the floor. The rucksack mostly contained ammunition for his rifle, but his phone, wallet, weapon cleaning kit, solar charger and bluetooth speaker were among its myriad pouches, as well.

Erik looked somberly at all that remained of his old life. A life he would likely never return to, and one that he had chosen for himself with pride. He sighed and gingerly picked up his phone. The black mirror on its front blinked to life. _44%, No Signal_ , it read. He could never read a computer screen in his dreams. This was real.

“Most of the contents of that bag is just rounds for my rifle,” Erik explained, painfully aware of the balance-tipping effects his technology may have, “Our weapons are designed to fire disposable rounds using an explosive powder encapsulated in a piece of brass. I suppose the closest comparison for the explosive would be Qunari black powder, but it’s much more refined than that.”

Leliana’s eyes opened wide, her collected demeanor completely fallen away. Similar shocked looks covered the faces of the other three Theodosians. “Do you know how to make it?” Leliana and Cullen asked almost simultaneously.

“Not the kind in my ammunition, no. It’s synthetic, more powerful and more stable than black powder, and I don’t know if the technology to replicate it exists in Thedas, yet. There will be an arcanist in the Inquisition’s future who may figure it out, but the best I can do is Qunari black powder.”

Another sheaf of paper was quickly shoved into his hands. “If you could, would you write the formula?” Josephine asked, her eyes comically wide with shock.

Erik was momentarily taken aback by the fervor of the Inquisition’s leaders before he put the pieces in place. The Qun was still a threat, and they were the only ones with non-magical explosives. Knowledge of how to produce explosives would forever balance the scales for Thedas’s inevitable future struggle against the Qun, and he wrote the formula for black powder without a second thought before handing it back to Josephine.

“75 percent saltpeter, 15 percent charcoal and ten percent sulfur, measured in weight only,” Erik explained, hoping the same minerals existed across dimensions. “Sulfur and charcoal are the fuel while saltpeter acts as an oxidizer.”

The four Theodosians looked at the formula scrawled on the parchment before Josephine looked back at Erik.

“This is in Tevene,” she said blankly, “I can read it, but…”

Erik froze. Of course his written language wouldn’t be the same. Just his luck. “Fuck. Well I guess I can’t read the Common script, so someone will have to teach me.”

“I’ll have both a Tevene copy of the Chant of Light and a Common copy for you by nightfall. They should be a direct translation,” Leliana said resolutely, “Even if you do nothing else, we are eternally in your debt. The formula for gaatlok is something that the Qunari keep closely guarded, and knowing it will even the odds, perhaps even tip them in our favor.”

“Leliana, if word gets out we have this…” Cassandra began

“I’ll see to it that it doesn’t,” she said coolly, folding the formula and sliding it securely into a pocket Erik didn’t even notice.

Cullen glanced at the phone in Erik’s hand. “So you hold the secret to Qunari gaatlok. I’m assuming that is another of your world’s advancements we do not possess.”

“You would be correct, Commander,” Erik said, gently brushing his fingerprint over the reader to unlock the device.

“This is called a phone. Originally its use was to contact anyone in the world with one of these devices at any time instantaneously. If you and I both had these, and the infrastructure to support the phones existed, you could be in Par Vollen and I could be in Halamshiral, and we could have a conversation as though we were sitting next to one another.

“As the technology progressed, we added more and more to phones. They can take pictures, like a painting taken immediately, or video, like a moving painting. We had access to your world’s collective knowledge throughout history and could save it to these devices whenever we chose. Obviously the infrastructure doesn’t exist here, so I’m left with whatever is left on my device physically, which is mostly music, honestly.”

“That plays music?” Leliana asked, her love for music clearly winning out over her cool demeanor.

“It does. That’s what this is for,” Erik said, reaching for the speaker. He pressed the power button and it sprang to life with a beep. The four Theodosians all jumped slightly, and Cullen and Cassandra’s hands instinctively went for their weapons. Erik calmly opened his music app, scrolling through and pondering what he should play as a demonstration. He knew that no matter what, the music would sound completely alien to them, and it did not help that over half of his library was death metal, black metal and power metal. Erik decided it would be best to show just how alien his world is to them. He hummed in thought before settling on Trivium.

The pounding drums and thrash riffs of his favorite band filled the air. He almost involuntarily began headbanging before realizing how ridiculous it would look to his new associates, so he settled for tapping his feet in time with the double bass.

After a couple minutes, Cullen spoke up. “What is that _sound_? I understand the singing and the music, but that… man… sounds like a demon” he said, his face pale. Erik quickly remembered the Commander’s past trauma with demons and turned the music down slightly.

“That’s a growl. It’s a form of singing that a lot of musicians in my world use. It isn’t meant to carry a melody; it’s more to add texture and power to the music.”

“And _all_ your world’s music sounds like this?” Cassandra asked in shock.

“No, it doesn’t,” Erik replied, quickly finding Muddy Waters and playing his music instead. Smooth blues filled the air, still a shock to the four Theodosians, but slightly less so.

“Why not play this to begin with?” Josephine laughed.

He shut the music off. “Because I wanted to show you all how far removed from normality I am, and the only way I could think of doing that was to show you how out of your element you’d all be in my world. That wasn’t normal to any of you. I’m sure it barely even registered as music to you, and that first song was from my favorite artist ever. I’ve seen that group with fifty thousand other people together, singing along to the chorus.

"It’s completely normal to listen to something like that regularly where I’m from, but I’d be willing to bet that if anyone here performed a growl like that here, they’d be accused of being an abomination, especially now. As much as I know about this world, the fine intricacies of actually _living_ in it are lost on storytelling. If I’m going to survive, I need help, and right now the Inquisition is my best chance of survival. I will give your organization everything I know at the right time to ensure its success in the coming months and years, and all I ask in return is help making a home here.”

Cassandra looked confused. “You don’t foresee yourself returning home?”

He shook his head, pushing the sorrow over the fact out of his mind temporarily. “The only possible way for that to have happened was for a massive amount of energy to have been coalesced into one place and for myself to be in the right place at the right time, at least in my world. Even with magic, I doubt the exact situation could be replicated again. No, I’m stuck here, probably for the rest of my life. Which means I’m starting from scratch.”

Looks of sympathy were cast his way, and he inwardly cringed. He didn’t want their sympathy, he wanted their help in building a new life. He sighed and collected his belongings, putting them back in his ruck and zipping it back up.

“Well, then we should help,” Josephine finally said, “There are three open cabins near the entrance to Haven. I’ll have my people attend to it and find you when it is prepared.”

“There are two,” Erik sighed, “One is where Evelyn is currently sleeping, and where Evelyn will be staying in Haven.”

“Evelyn?” Josephine asked.

“Evelyn Trevelyan,” he explained, “The woman with the marked hand.”

The Antivan’s eyes shot open. “She’s a Trevelyan? I had no idea. Oh, her poor mother. When word of the Conclave reaches her…”

“I wouldn’t count on Lady Trevelyan being so receptive to her daughter’s well being,” he pointed out, “In one of the versions of the story I know, she didn’t have a good relationship with her family after being shipped off to Ostwick circle.”

“I suppose we’ll simply have to ask her when she awakes,” Leliana muttered, “Is there anything we should know about the coming days? Say, the next week?”

“Yes. Expect Evelyn Trevelyan to start being called the Herald of Andraste. Your Inquisition to be declared in three days. There will be heavy Chantry backlash.”

“The Herald of Andraste?” Cassandra asked.

“The story about Evelyn stepping out of a rift with a woman behind her will soon spread. I don’t know where it starts, but people start to believe that the woman behind her was Andraste. That, coupled with the fact that she stopped the Breach from swallowing the world, will make her the Herald of Andraste in the people’s eyes.”

“And in truth?” Cullen asked.

He shrugged. “That’s a question of faith, and it’s a question I refuse to answer. I won’t use my information to color a faith that I don’t yet share and that I didn’t think actually existed until six hours ago.”

“What about you?” Cassandra asked, “You stepped out of the rift as well.”

“And I didn’t exist in this world until three days ago. I have no idea what my future holds.”

They were clearly in thought for a moment. Josephine was the next to speak. “Is there any way to mitigate the Chantry’s ire with the action we are about to take?”

Erik shook his head. “No. They’ll call it heretical and shun you. I wouldn’t worry about it; they’ll come around eventually.”

Another bout of silence filled the room, and he slung the backpack over his shoulder.

“If you have no further questions, I’m going to go find something to eat, then find Varric and harass him about Hawke.” 

“I believe that we are finished, for now. I’m sure we’ll have more questions in the coming days, but feel free to settle in for now. We’ll find you if there’s anything more.”

He nodded solemnly before stepping out of the room and walking out of the Chantry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the first chapter with all-original dialogue, so yay me!
> 
> Title comes from Scrying Through Shattered Glass by Ghostemane - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcNJ__19sWQ
> 
> The songs Erik played for his new colleagues were Insurrection by Trivium - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzydabDh4TY & Champagne and Reefer by Muddy Waters - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHowqKYSXNI


	4. Commando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik drinks with Varric, gets a new title, and learns how to swing a sword.

Erik wandered Haven for nearly twenty minutes before finding the tavern, where he knew Varric would probably be hiding out. He didn’t want to admit it, but until he found the Singing Maiden, he was completely lost. Everything was still mostly in the same place he recalled, but the entire village was just _bigger_ . There were things that simply couldn’t be produced on a console; even with the oppressive threat of the Breach lording over the village, Haven was a bustling village, almost a town. Bakers and merchants haggled the streets, servants darted in and out of the crowds, and the smell of human living was _everywhere_. It was not as pronounced as Erik had expected (he attributed that to the fact that magic was, indeed, a thing), but it was still present. 

As he headed toward the tavern, several people gave him respectful nods, while others eyed him with looks of suspicion or fear. He ignored the negative looks as he pushed into the tavern, shifting his rifle’s sling so that the weapon rested on his back and tightening it down.

He heard Varric before he saw him. The dwarf had a crowd around where he sat, enthralled as he did what he did best: telling a story.

“I’m telling you, it was like something out of a story,“ he heard the dwarf say as he spun his tale, “I’ve never seen anything like it! She used that mark to do something to the rift, bringing the most massive pride demon I’ve ever seen to its knees, and then he used that strange weapon of his and made two of its eyes explode! Honestly, with the way they came at the right time, it’s almost like Andraste herself really _did_ bless us with Her Herald and Her Champion to face the Breach.”

His heart dropped into his stomach. _So_ this _is how the Herald gets her title_ , he thought, _and this is how I figure in._

He slowly approached the crowd surrounding the center table, and the dwarf caught sight of him.

“Speak of a Magister, and he shall appear. The man of the hour himself,” the dwarf laughed, “Grab a seat, I was just telling all the people about you and the Herald.”

“The Herald?” he asked as he sat on a bench next to Varric’s seat, masking his shock at the origin of Evelyn’s title with curiosity.

“That’s what the people are calling her,” he confirmed, almost as if he didn’t just name her Andraste’s Herald himself. Or name Erik Andraste’s Champion, for that matter.

“Is it true you and the Herald were sent by Andraste herself to fight the Breach?” a woman asked from the crowd.

Erik thought for a moment. The more of a following Evelyn had, the easier her time would be. He didn’t want to prop himself up along with her, but it seemed that he was tied to the story now, whether he liked it or not.

“I can’t speak for the Herald, or whether the woman behind us was truly Andraste,” he spoke, “But I know that the woman behind us was… serene. Holy, even.”

“Is it true you were sent from another world?” a man asked.

He had no idea how they had come up with _that_ on their own, but he wasn’t going to deny facts. “That _is_ true.”

“Then it had to be Andraste,” the man declared, “Who else has the power to call people from other worlds to aid her Herald?”

 _Anyone with an Eluvian,_ he thought cynically as the crowd began to murmur in awe. But then he stopped. Erik saw his own arrival on Thedas, even if he didn’t remember it. He didn’t step out of an Eluvian, he _appeared out of thin air_. As fucked as it sounded, who was he to doubt that he was pulled from Earth by the wife of a god when there was a literal elven god walking in their midst?

He hated to admit it, but the man may have a point. He may have _actually_ been sent to Thedas on the whim of a god.

“Alright, alright, calm down, everyone. The Champion here has had a long day of fighting demons, and he needs his rest,” Varric declared. The crowd began to disperse, with many wishing Erik blessings of the Maker as they returned to their own seats.

Flissa approached, carrying a bowl of something steaming and a mug, placing them before him.

“On the house, Champion, for what you’ve done for us and the Herald,” she spoke in a tone of reverence.

“You don’t have to call me that, Flissa,” he smiled, “Just Erik is fine.”

She gasped. “You.. how do you know my name?”

He grabbed the mug, giving the barkeep a knowing wink before taking a sip of the mead. She stood for a moment, stunned, before returning to the bar, a look of awe still on her face.

“How the fuck _did_ you know her name?” Varric hissed once she was out of earshot.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I was from another world, Varric. Ask Cassandra if you want to know the details.”

He went pale. “I never told you _my_ name, either.” Erik chuckled at the dwarf’s obvious shock as he took a bite of the stew. It was surprisingly good, filled with hearty chunks of ram, potatoes, and what seemed to be leeks.

“A laugh and evading a question isn’t going to be enough for me, kid. You gotta give me more to work with,” the dwarf said in a light, if uneasy, tone.

Erik sighed. He figured Varric was going to be privy to the information anyways, and to be honest, he always liked the roguish dwarf, so lying to him just felt wrong.

He told him everything he had told the advisors. When Erik was done, Varric sat back in his chair and downed all the ale in his mug before signaling for another round for both of them.

“That’s… a lot to take in, offworlder. You just know things and you aren’t going to share them?”

He waited until Flissa had delivered their drinks before answering. “Not until the time is right for everything. If Marian Hawke knew that Isabela had stolen the Tome of Koslun and that the Arishok was looking for her all along, would she have let Isabela into her little group?”

Varric froze. “How the hell do you know about that? That wasn’t in _Tale of the Champion_.”

“I know everything that happened back then, Varric. Now answer the question.”

Varric thought. “Probably not. And Hawke probably wouldn’t have fallen for Rivaini, either.”

He filed that tidbit away for later. “And if she never kept Isabela around, the duel with the Arishok would have never happened, meaning she would have never been named the Champion of Kirkwall…”

“Which means she never would have been at the center of this whole shitshow,” Varric concluded.

“Some things are meant to happen, Varric. I have the burden of knowledge that I can’t share,” he muttered.

The dwarf shook his head. “Shit, did I call you Champion of Andraste too early? Are you really her Prophet?”

“I was given the privilege of reading a story before it happened, Varric,” Erik responded in exasperation, “I don’t have foresight. If I need to be called anything, what you named me and Evelyn are just fine.”

“Look, all I tried to do was give these people some hope. Some people lost loved ones on that mountain. Some people lost everything. If belief that the Maker’s bride sent two people to do her work among the living helps them, then I don’t regret it,” Varric defended.

“I know,” he sighed. He didn’t like it, but the dwarf did what was necessary. Looking around, these people really _were_ distraught. A little comfort that the Maker was still watching over them wouldn’t hurt.

“But enough about that. You said you needed information about Hawke. What did you want to know?”

And so off they went, trading a drink and a question to each other each. Erik learned that Marian Hawke was a rogue who sided with the Circle and killed Anders, who lost her brother to the Blight and her sister to the Wardens, and that Bethany was now serving with Aedan Cousland. She dueled the Arishok and won, had fallen in love with Isabela, and ran off to sea with her when shit went down in Kirkwall.

Varric, on the other hand, learned more about their supposed ‘Champion of Andraste’. He was a soldier by trade, and an elite one at that. He’d seen more combat than nearly all the soldiers in Haven and had been all around his world before finding himself suddenly ripped from a life he was comfortable with and thrown into a place he decidedly did _not_ want to be.

He had the information he needed, and not a moment too soon, either. An elven serving girl approached them, her hands demurely held in front of her.

“Pardon me, messere, are you Erik Andersen?” she asked in an Orlesian accent.

He nodded, finishing his drink. “I am. Can I help you?”

“Ambassador Montilyet has sent me to show you where you will be staying, if you would.”

“And that’s my cue,” he said, to his newly found dwarven friend, only slightly slurring his words, “Thanks for the drink, Varric. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Be seeing you, Offworlder,” he responded, writing something in a book.

“You’re gonna have to come up with a better nickname, you know. Offworlder’s too cliche,” Erik jabbed.

“Really? Since when is it at all cliche for someone to fall into another world?” the dwarf shot back.

“It is where I came from, you unwanted tag-along,” he said jokingly on his way out the door, thinking back to the countless fanfictions he shamelessly read in his off time. The dwarf simply laughed as the door shut behind them.

“Lead the way, uh… I didn’t get your name?” Erik asked the elf.

“Adelie, messere,” she responded softly, leading him through the now darkened village.

As they walked, he drunkenly realized how much _bigger_ he was than the elves running around. He knew they were shorter and more slight than humans, but he even stood a good six inches taller than most humans in the village. In fact, Cullen and Solas were the only two anywhere near his height. He quickly remembered how important nutrition was to growth and let the thought slip from his mind.

Adelie led him to the cabin next to the one he knew to be Evelyn’s before opening the door and gesturing him in. As he stepped in, he took a quick look around. The cabin was small and homely, with a fire in the hearth and an empty washbin in the corner next to a decent sized chest stacked high with clothes and a pair of boots on top. A desk sat between the bed and chest, and on it sat two books: a common Chant and Tevene Chant.

“I hope you find it to your liking, messere. If not, I’ll-”

“It’s perfect, Adelie, thank you,” he said kindly, setting his rifle and bag by the desk.

“I’d pay you for your help showing me here, but I don’t have any money, so…” he trailed off lamely.

“There’s no need, messere. Ambassador Montilyet is ensuring my services are well compensated.” She froze on her way out the door.

“If you don’t mind me asking, messere, were you and the Herald really sent by the Maker’s bride?”

“I can’t speak for Evelyn, but the longer I think about it, the more my coming here seems ordained,” he responded softly, staring into the burning hearth. He thought for a moment about Adelie’s demeanor and pointed question before taking a complete stab in the dark.

“No go deliver your report to Leliana, Adelie,” he said with a smile. Her eyes went wide for a moment before she gave a slight curtsey and rushed out of the cabin and into the cold night.

 _Gotcha_ , he thought smugly as he shucked his shirt and pants off and crawled into bed.

He awoke to a pounding on the door and a splitting headache. He groaned, drawing the blankets tighter around himself. It was a Saturday, who the hell would be banging at his apartment door on a Saturday?

The knocking at the door didn’t stop, and he realized the knocking was far too close to be his apartment door. It came rushing back to him, then. Yesterday wasn’t a dream. He had just had another nightmare about Afghanistan, and you don’t have dreams in dreams. His eyes blinked open reluctantly and he slowly rolled out of bed and onto the floor. The knock came again, this time more agitated.

“I’m coming! Fucking shit, let me put some pants on, first,” he shouted. Finally dressed in the linen clothes left for him the night before, he stumbled to the door and pulled it open.

Erik immediately regretted his decision. The fresh snow on the morning rooftops felt like daggers to his eyes, his night of drinking hitting him with full force. He blinked back the sun’s ruthless assault and found himself face to face with Leliana, a cool demeanor on her face and her hands clasped behind her back.

“You were right,” she began without preamble, “The people have begun to call Evelyn Trevelyan the Herald of Andraste, and you the Champion of Andraste.”

“You couldn’t wait until after I was done being a hung over piece of shit to tell me that?” he grumbled.

She gave him an odd look. “It’s nearly midday.”

He sighed and waved her in. The beautiful spymaster strode in on silent feet as he closed the door. She sat down gracefully in the chair and he flopped back down on the bed.

“Do you know who gave you two these… titles?” she asked.

“Pretty sure it was Varric,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I heard the fucker spinning some tale in the tavern before I spoke with him, and the next thing I know, people are asking me if Evelyn and I are really sent by Andraste to do the Maker’s work.”

“Were you?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like Andraste is going to make an appearance and physically declare us her chosen. It’s a question of faith, and right now, I’m more inclined to believe it than not.”

“This is a different tune than the one you were singing yesterday, Erik. What changed?” she asked coolly.

“You and I are in opposing situations, Nightingale. You had your faith shaken by what happened at the Conclave. No, don’t give me that look, don’t deny it. I already know, remember? On the other hand, I was brought here, which _literally_ shouldn’t have been possible, and plopped into that chamber at the right time. Doesn’t that seem a bit odd to you?”

She didn’t respond, and her face remained impassive. “How did you know Adelie was one of mine?”

He laughed. “I figured you’d want to keep tabs on me, make sure I wasn’t doing anything sketchy. And a soft spoken elf, really? I know how shit works here. Elves are second-class citizens. They blend in perfectly, so even if she really _is_ a serving girl working for Josephine’s side of the house, I figured you’d want to recruit her, too. So I took a guess.”

She sighed. “You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that much.”

“Coming from you? That’s high praise.”

She gave him a sarcastic smile as she stood and moved for the door.

“Leliana.” The Orlesian stopped and turned back to Erik.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, okay? I know what it’s like to lose people you care about. If you ever need to talk about what happened, or _anything_ , I won’t turn you away.”

She hid her surprise well, he had to admit. She turned and walked out of the cabin without a word.

Erik let out a sigh and threw his boots on over a pair of thick wool socks left for him. He didn’t even know Origins Leliana, not really, but he already missed her. He wasn’t scared of the spymaster, not really; it’d just be nice to not have her planning his potential assassination should he step out of line. 

He knew she was still in there somewhere. He saw a glimpse of it when he mentioned music yesterday during his… interrogation? Interview? Whatever it was, she was the only one not immediately repulsed by the music. She seemed affixed with fascination, and it made his insides do odd things when he remembered the look she had painted on her face. Decidedly not liking where that was headed, Erik quickly pushed the thought from his mind and ran water from the washbin over his face and hair. He drank a healthy amount of water from a pitcher he didn’t notice the night before, grabbed his rifle, and stepped out into the mountain air.

Erik took five steps before he realized he had no idea what the fuck he was doing. He’d already missed breakfast, but it was too early for lunch, so he figured he should get food in before the rush of people at the tavern. He wandered to the Singing Maiden, giving respectful nods and smiles to those who greeted him; everyone was decidedly less hostile than yesterday, and some even gave him looks of reverence, which unnerved him slightly. He didn’t like this hero worship, and kept his head down as much as he could until he stepped into the quiet tavern.

He ate his meal in silence, really and truly thinking about what a shitty situation he’d been thrust into. He was honest with the advisors yesterday, he had no idea how to _live_ in a world like this. He didn’t even know how to wipe his own ass without toilet paper. Basic sanitation was questionable at best, and most people lived in superstition and fear for the majority of their short lives. He knew he looked ten times healthier than most people, too, so he probably looked like a noble to the sorry bastards. To top it all off, he was the tallest person in the village next to Cullen, and he was one of a handful of redheaded men in the village, so he stuck out like a sore thumb. Talk about a fish out of water.

He thought about his skills and what he brought to the future Inquisition. His knowledge of the future was sure to be helpful, and he was extremely healthy, but aside from his rifle, which didn’t have unlimited rounds, he didn’t know how to use a weapon. His knowledge of swordplay was limited to YouTube videos and beating the hell out of his friends with a toy lightsaber when they were kids. He knew diplomacy, sure but he didn’t know the names and titles of the nobles that would be necessary to be a true help to Josephine. And to top it all off, he couldn’t fucking read Theodosian writing.

Erik stopped mid-bite and thought about it for a moment. What the hell was he doing, wallowing? He was nothing if not adaptable. It was his job, something drilled into him from day one in the Army. He may not have the skills _now_ , but he’d be a fool if he didn’t think he could pick them up, and it’d be a disservice to himself and everyone around him if he didn’t learn them. He quickly finished his meal, returned the bowl and mug, and stood up to find Cullen or Cassandra.

It didn’t take long. Both of them were on the training ground, Cassandra beating the stuffing out of some poor practice dummy and Cullen smoking the living shit out of his men, probably for some infraction in training. He approached Cassandra, and she looked up from her life’s work of menacing practice dummies and lowered her blade.

“Champion. What can I do for you?”

“Not you too,” he groaned, “I was hoping to avoid this.”

“The people seem to think it was divine providence that you and the Herald were sent to us, and judging your circumstances, I do not disagree,” Cassandra explained.

He shrugged. “Fine. But it’s just Erik, please? I don’t want to lose myself to some title. I can imagine you know what it’s like, being named Hero of Orlais and all.”

Cassandra nodded resolutely. “I do. And I will respect your wishes. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I need to know how to use a sword, and Cullen’s busy skullfucking his guys, so I went to you.”

She blanched at his choice of words but before he could respond, he heard a voice to his right.

“Don’t let me ‘skullfucking’ my soldiers stop you, if you need help, I’ll help,” Cullen laughed.

“I knew you would have a soldier’s mouth on you,” Erik joked, “Seriously, though, I have no idea how to swing a sword. My knowledge on the subject extends to me and my friends mercilessly beating in play duels with toys when we were kids, and I’m going to use my rifle sparingly; it doesn’t have unlimited ammunition.”

Cullen thought for a moment. “I’ll propose this. I train you with a sword, and you teach a tactic from your world to my men that we wouldn’t know.”

He thought for a moment. “How many crossbowmen, archers and mages do you have under your command?”

“After the Conclave?” Cullen pursed his lips in thought and ran his thumb along the hilt of his weapon. “About a company of archers and arbalists and a platoon of mages.”

“I’ll teach them how to clear a building faster, safer and more efficiently than you’ve ever seen it done,” Erik offered.

Cullen immediately held out his hand, which Erik shook. “Deal.”

And that was how he got the shit beaten out of him by Cassandra and Cullen for three hours. Swinging the sword wasn’t the hard part. He figured out the footwork easily enough, and that was half the work. It was the shield he couldn’t get around. It was awkward and cumbersome, threw off his balance, and got in his way more than it helped. After what must have been the hundredth time Cullen knocked him on his ass, Cassandra grunted in frustration.

“This is going nowhere, Cullen. He’s clearly not comfortable with a shield.”

“He’ll learn,” Cullen shot back, rolling his shoulders.

“No, he won’t. If he hasn’t learned by now, he won’t,” she murmured, rummaging through the barrel of practice weapons. She drew a dagger, almost a shortsword, and gave it a twirl. The Seeker nodded in approval before handing Erik the new weapon.

“Try this in your off hand. See if your balance is better.”

She was right. It was a night and day difference. He was much more nimble and was able to parry blows with the small stabbing weapon much more efficiently than he could block with a sword. He still got his ass handed to him a hundred times over by the Commander and Seeker, but it was far less embarrassing than before. After nearly two and a half hours of spars, corrections, and more spars, Cullen sheathed his sword.

“That’s enough for today. I know where to go with you from here out. Your footwork is fine, which, as Cassandra said before, is half the battle. Take a break and I’ll have the officers bring their men over for your training.”

He nodded and slicked his sweat-laden hair back from his forehead. Cassandra handed him a waterskin and he took a long drink.

“You did well. I saw improvement even from today.”

“You guys kicked my ass,” Erik argued.

“We have both been using our weapons our entire lives, as I’m sure you’ve been using yours,” Cassandra reminded him, “If Cullen didn’t see promise, he wouldn’t have agreed to continue training you, and neither would I.”

“Well _that’s_ reassuring,” he said sardonically.

“That isn’t to say we would have abandoned hope. We would have simply assigned a trainer,” the Seeker stopped and glanced over his shoulder, “But enough talk. It’s time to show us this tactic of yours.”

Erik turned around to see Cullen leading three officers and nearly a hundred and fifty men and women towards them.

“Well, Champion, you promised you’d train these soldiers. Show us this ‘room clearing’.”

And that was how he introduced the Inquisition to modern CQB.

For the next hour he taught the basics of clearing a room with a team, going over the importance of digging corners, moving swiftly, and not flagging your teammates. Then Erik drew a frame of a small room in the snow and divided them off into teams, ignoring mage and non-mage designation and causing chagrin among some of the more prejudiced and superstitious individuals.

“You didn’t check your first corner, Corporal Reynolds. You’re dead.”

“You just flagged your buddy. She’s dead.”

“Get the hell out of the fatal funnel. You’re dead.”

“You went the wrong way. First man is never wrong, don’t follow the direction he went.”

“Don’t rush the door. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

“Watch your feet. You don’t want to trip yourself.”

“Don’t move so far up the wall, Enchanter Moreau. You’ll get in your teammate’s way.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Good. Again.”

“Good.”

After nearly three more hours, they had the basics down. He looked at the exhausted soldiers and nodded.

“Remember, you’re not fighting for yourself. You’re fighting for the people to your left and right, so they can see their families and loved ones again. Whatever you were before, you’re a unit, now. Trust each other, and everyone comes home safe.”

Cullen nodded and dismissed his soldiers.

“Well said,” Cassandra muttered.

“In two days, race and magical ability won’t matter,” Erik responded in a low tone, “They’re gonna be Inquisition soldiers, and they chose to fight. They need to trust each other as much as they trust themselves or they’ll get someone killed.”

“I can see the practical use of such a tactic, Champion. If you would, I’d like to work with you on it.”

“Sure. It was designed for an entire military with weapons like mine, so we’ll have to modify it, but we can cross that bridge when we get there.”

“You guys want to go get something to eat?” he asked. Cassandra nodded in agreement and moved to join Erik.

“I, ah… have things to take care of. Thank you for the offer,” Cullen responded slowly.

“Cullen, joining us for dinner will not make you less of your soldiers’ Commander,” Cassandra sighed.

“Thank you, but there is much to do. I’ll have it brought to me,” the Fereldan responded more resolutely.

“Alright, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walked back toward Haven with the Seeker.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Erik spoke up. “He’s having withdrawals.”

Cassandra stopped walking. “How did you know?”

“I know everything important about all of you, Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera-”

“Stop. That is extremely unnerving.” Erik smirked as Cassandra caught back up with him. It was less fun with Cassandra, to be honest; it was too easy to get a rise out of her. She was so rigid and militaristic it was almost comical.

“To be honest, he started looking pale about an hour ago and started sweating.”

“Will it kill him?” Cassandra asked him nervously.

“No. He’ll come out a better, happier man for it. But in a few months his withdrawals are going to get so terrible he’ll ask you to remove him from his position. Do not let it happen.”

“I wouldn’t have, even without your reassurance. He is stronger than he realizes.”

“He is,” Erik agreed, “I respect his decision immensely.”

Cassandra gave a friendly smile. “As do I.”

They ate in companionable silence before returning to their respective sleeping areas. Erik sat at his desk and lit a candle, silently reading the Tevene Chant of Light and comparing it to its Common twin. It was slow, but the sentence structure was the same as English/Tevene and he was grateful that he wasn’t having to learn an entirely new language, even if the Common letters were confusing as hell.

After several hours he washed himself off and climbed into bed.

The next two days were exactly like the previous, minus the hangover. He trained for hours with Cullen and Cassandra, gaining more bruises than he thought possible, but he improved significantly, holding out for a full three minutes against Cullen before finally yielding to the superior swordsman. Two hours were spent before dinner each night with Cullen developing a CQB tactic that worked more smoothly with Theodosian technology. He ate with either Cassandra or Leliana both nights, and spent three more hours reading the Chant.

On the fourth day after the Conclave, he waltzed into Evelyn’s cabin at dawn, sat in an open chair, and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like Erik's new title, but I thought it'd be funny if Varric named two people Champions. if anyone has a better term for someone who fell out of a rift with the Herald, let me know and I'll change it.
> 
> CQB is the most dangerous part of modern combat, I'd say. It's an extremely useful tactic, and one that I'd imagine could be put to good use in a world like Thedas.
> 
> Also, skullfucking is a real term in the military. If you hear that word directed at you, you're about to die.
> 
> Title comes from Commando by Satyricon - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5vTe69NlsDM


	5. Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn wakes up and learns she's a religious icon.

Evelyn woke with a start, quickly taking in her immediate situation. The mark on her hand no longer hurt, she was in a warm bed rather than a cell, and she no longer felt like she was dying. Those were all three positives. She still had no idea how she received the fucking mark, but something certainly happened to make these people less hostile.

A lithe elven woman with short hair and bright eyes entered the cabin with a tray of something wrapped in cloth. As soon as she saw Evelyn slowly coming to, she jumped in shock and dropped the tray.

“Oh! I- I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” the elven woman stammered.

Evelyn sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I only–“

The words died in her mouth as the elven woman’s eyes went even wider as she glanced around and noticed… Erik, sitting lazily in a chair in the corner. She immediately dropped to her knees and brought her head to the wooden floor

“I beg for the Champion’s and your forgiveness and your blessings. I am but a humble servant.”

Erik drew himself from the chair and sauntered over to the elven woman. Maker, he was  _ tall _ . He squatted and offered a hand to the prostrating elf.

“Relax. She just woke, and she’s confused.” The elven woman took his offered hand and stood. She swallowed and glanced at Erik before turning to Evelyn.

“You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us and that the Champion protected us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

Three days? She’d been unconscious for  _ three days _ ? What had happened? First everyone wanted to kill her, now this elf seemed to literally be praying to her and her fellow prisoner. But… she hadn’t closed the Breach? She was more confused than before.

“So you’re saying…. they’re happy with me?”

The serving girl bit her lip and shifted her weight awkwardly. “I’m only saying what I heard. I don’t mean anything by it.”

She didn’t get a chance to try and assuage the stammering elf before she continued. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said she wanted to see the both of you ‘at once’!”

Ah. Right. The hyper-aggressive super Templar that dragged her to the Breach. “And where is she?”

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once,’ she said!” She stumbled out of the cabin and threw the door open.

Erik chuckled softly and grabbed the basket from the floor, setting it on an end table.

“I suppose I should explain what happened,” he began.

“The Breach is still open?” the mage asked sadly.

“It is, but it isn’t growing anymore,” Erik agreed, “You saw to that. After you tackled the rift you fell unconscious. I carried you back to Haven and, well…”

“Here we are?”

“It’s more than that,” the man sighed, “Look, I don’t know what your stance is on Andraste, but like it or not, the people seem to have decided you and I are Her chosen.”

Her brain screeched to a halt. “They  _ what _ ?”

He opened the cloth bundle in the basket and handed Evelyn a bread roll. “Eat. This is gonna be a long story.”

Her stomach grumbled in anticipation and she snatched the bread from her fellow prisoner, unceremoniously tearing into the warm roll.

“After you stopped the Breach from growing, word got around how we were delivered from the Fade with a woman behind us. The people are now convinced that woman was Andraste delivering us in their time of need. They named you Her Herald, and I her Champion.”

She stopped chewing and glanced down at the mark on her hand. It was no longer as angry, but it still looked like an angry scar and glowed faintly, pulsing in time with her slow heartbeat.

“I’m the Herald of Andraste?”

“And I’m the Champion of Andraste, according to the people of Haven,” Erik agreed.

“And the truth?”

He sighed. “The truth is it’s a question of faith. Andraste isn’t going to make an appearance and confirm or deny that we were really chosen. Those people just lost everything, and they saw us prevent the actual end of the world. It’s enough to give them hope that Andraste and the Maker are still watching over Thedas.”

“I… I don’t know what to think,” she admitted. She was Andrastian, sure, but the fact of the matter was that she hadn’t even considered this as a possibility.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was literally drawn here at the right time from another world, so us being the Maker’s chosen isn’t  _ too _ far fetched,” Erik sighed.

“Bullshit,” she laughed.

And so Erik explained everything. About how he knew secrets of the past, and what the future held, even if he couldn’t share his knowledge immediately. He told her of his in something called Special Forces in his land, as something called a Green Beret. And he told her she was the only one he didn’t completely know about.

“The Herald was always kind of a blank slate,” Erik explained, “I know about the possibilities of who you could be, but I don’t know the truth about you, outside the fact that you’re a Circle mage and noble from Ostwick.”

Her mouth went bitter at his mention of her nobility. Her mother and father sent her to the Circle without a second thought. She’d only seen them three times in the years since, and each meeting left her more bitter than the last. Her parents treated her like some sort of abomination, a stain in the Maker’s eyes for the gift of magic she was given.

And now these people were convinced she was the Herald of Andraste.

“So what happens now?” she asked softly.

“Now you finish eating, get out of bed, and we go face the crowd, get into a shouting match with Chancellor Roderick, and watch the Inquisition become reborn.”

“The Inquisition  _ what _ ??”

“Like I said, I have knowledge of future events,” Erik explained softly, “Restarting the Inquisition was Justinia’s backup plan in case the Conclave failed. And it failed spectacularly. The Left and Right hands of the Divine, the two women that gave us  _ such _ a warm welcome in that cell, are about to declare the Inquisition reborn as soon as we set foot in the Chantry.”

“And the Breach is still open.”

“And so you and I have some work to do,” he smiled, “So get up and get ready to face the music, Herald.”

Her face scrunched at the use of her title. But he was right. She couldn’t just sit in bed all day. She swallowed the last of her food and prepared to get out of bed, then froze. She wasn’t wearing anything.

“I… um…” she mumbled. Erik seemed to understand, reaching for a set of clothes on a chest nearby, wordlessly handing them to her before moving to the entryway and turning from her. Evelyn quickly dressed, wincing at a slight pain in her shoulder and tingling in her marked palm as she threw her shirt on and combed her long, red hair.. She stomped her boots on and stood.

“Okay. I’m ready,” she said shakily. Erik held a hand out and she gingerly took it. His skin was calloused and rough, but his touch was gentle enough that she calmed at the contact.

“I hope you don’t mind crowds,” he mumbled.

“What?” she asked as he grabbed the door and threw it open.

He wasn’t kidding. There were hundreds of people crowded around the area she was sleeping, whispering among themselves and waiting for their Herald. They all stopped speaking as soon as the door opened and stared in awe. A group of soldiers cut the crowd down the middle and stood at attention, clearing them a path. Evelyn looked to Erik in terror.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, “let’s go.”

And so they walked through the gaggle of onlookers, the soldiers giving sharp salutes as they passed.

“That’s them. That’s the Herald and Champion of Andraste,” she heard a man whisper reverently, “They said when they came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over them.”

“Hush!. We shouldn’t disturb them,” a woman snapped.

“Why did Lady Cassandra have them in chains? I thought Seekers knew everything,” the man continued.

She tuned the conversation out and let Erik guide her forward, until she saw someone reach out from the crowd toward Erik reverently.

“Maker be with you,” someone said to Erik.

“Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste,” another called to her.

“What is going on?” she whispered to Erik.

“Smile and wave,” he whispered back, “They think we were sent to save them.”

She pushed her nausea at the situation down and followed Erik’s suggestion: she smiled graciously at the crowd, drawing slightly closer to Erik’s large frame as she did.

Evelyn heard more as they moved through the village. How she was sent by Andraste to close the Breach, how Erik was sent to protect her in her task, and various blessings and wishes of good fortune to the both of them. It was almost too much to bear.

As they approached the Chantry, she heard a group of clerics discussing something, but as they approached, they turned to the duo.

“Go in peace, Champion of Andraste.”

“Maker watch over you, Herald.”

She smiled nervously as Erik pushed the Chantry doors open. It was empty, and she could faintly hear an argument in the room on the far end of the building.

“This is where it starts. You ready?” Erik asked.

She swallowed but didn’t respond, simply walking forward with her counterpart

“Have you gone completely mad? They should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine,” she heard a man argue as they approached.

“I do not believe they are guilty.” Cassandra’s stern voice.

“The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she and that man intended it this way.”

“I do not believe that.”

“That is  _ not _ for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours,” she heard Cassandra snap. Well, at least  _ someone _ had a level head on her shoulders. She opened the door and walked into the room, followed closely by Erik.

The room was small, a map of Southern Thedas laid flat on a long table. Two guards stood in the room, along with the Seeker, the Chancellor, and the woman Cassandra had called Leliana. Roderick’s face twisted in anger as soon as they entered

“Chain them. I want them prepared for travel to the capital for trial,” Roderick barked toothlessly to the guards. The two armored soldiers glanced at each other uneasily.

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra sighed.

The guards saluted Cassandra and turned to leave, closing the door behind them.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” Roderick’s eyes narrowed at the younger Nevarran.

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it,” the Seeker responded forcefully.

Evelyn took a small step closer to Erik, earning an impassive glance from Leliana in response. “I did everything I could to close the Breach. It almost killed me.”

“Yet you live. A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned,” Roderick sneered. He felt Erik tense slightly at her side.

“Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face,” the Seeker responded through gritted teeth.

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live,” Leliana said in a melodious, if threatening voice.

Roderick took a step back. “ _ I _ am a suspect?”

“You, and many others.”

“But  _ not _ the prisoners,” Roderick barked indignantly

“I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to the Herald for help, and the Champion appeared from thin air, with no account of his existence beforehand,” Cassandra said. She was right. Erik had literally appeared from thin air beside her, she’d seen the vision herself. It was all too insane to wrap her mind around.

“So their survival, his sudden appearance, that  _ thing _ on her hand – all a coincidence?” Roderick was beside himself.

Cassandra shook her head, her eyes shining with faith. “Providence. The Maker sent them to us in our darkest hour.”

Evelyn recalled a line from the Chant. “'Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide.'”

Cassandra nodded. “We lost everything… then, out of nowhere, you two came.”

“The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it,” Leliana explained coolly to Evelyn.

“This is  _ not _ for you to decide,” Roderick argued.

Cassandra had apparently had enough. She turned and grabbed a massive, metal-bound book from a crate, slamming it on the table with a crack that reverberated off the stone walls.

“You know what this is, Chancellor?” Cassandra asked grimly, a finger on the book, “A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

Evelyn’s eyes went wide in shock. Andraste’s ass, he was  _ right _ . Just like at the Breach, Erik was right. Cassandra began jabbing a finger into the Chancellor’s chest, backing him into a wall as she did so.

“We  _ will _ close the Breach, we  _ will _ find those responsible, and we  _ will _ restore order with or without  _ your _ approval.”

Roderick licked his lips nervously, glancing around the room to each of its occupants. Leliana eyed him impassively, Evelyn stared at the Chancellor in shock, and Erik crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at the much smaller man.

Roderick shook his head and scrambled from the room. Then Erik started to laugh.

“What did I tell you two? Three days, and Evelyn wakes up and you declare the Inquisition.”

Cassandra blinked in shock. “I… Sweet Maker, you’re right.”

Leliana shook her head and turned to Evelyn. “This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice: We must act now. With you two at our side,” Cassandra continued, turning toward Erik and Evelyn.

Erik shrugged. “You already know my answer. As long as I’m here, I’ll help.”

Evelyn thought for a moment. She had nowhere to go, no real home to return to. She felt safe around Erik, like an older brother, and if he was staying with the Inquisition, she wanted to stay, too. Still, the idea of something called ‘The Inquisition’ unnerved her somewhat.

“If you’re truly trying to restore order…” Evelyn sighed

Leliana gave a small smile and nodded. “That is the plan.”

Cassandra offered a hand. “Help us fix this before it’s too late.”

Evelyn hesitated for only a moment, then took the Seeker’s gesture of peace.

The next three hours were a blur of chaos. Word spread quickly of the Inquisition’s birth. It seemed the infrastructure had already been set up, as though they were planning for the Conclave to fail. Leliana sent missives on dozens of ravens, spreading out as they moved away from Haven. A missive was nailed to the Chantry door by the most handsome man she had ever seen, much to the ire of Chancellor Roderick. The Inquisition formed quickly and efficiently, and by supper, they were up and running. Erik approached her shortly after and gently grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the Chantry.

“Come on. We have a meeting to attend.”

She let him pull her into the Chantry, mostly ignoring the gazes of reverence they both received. Cassandra was waiting for them just beyond the door, her hands on her hips.

“Good, you found her. Come with me, there is much to discuss.” She fell into step with Erik and Cassandra, and the Seeker turned to her. “Does it trouble you?”

She knew the Seeker meant the mark. She glanced down toward its lazily pulsing light and shrugged.

“It’s stopped growing, and I guess it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“We take our victories where we can,” Cassandra smiled, “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Oh! What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?” she replied sardonically.

Cassandra snorted. “Hold on to that sense of humor.”

“You’ll be fine,” Erik reassured, “Trust me. To the War Room!” He pushed the door on the far end of the room open with confidence and strode in.

The room was more packed than the last she’d been in there. Leliana and the handsome blond man she’d seen earlier were present, as well as a short, sweet looking Antivan woman wearing a gaudy silver outfit. Erik gave them all respectful nods and sat on a crate in the corner while Evelyn pushed up to the table, Cassandra filling in on her left.

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” she gestured to the tall blond man. Cullen, Cullen… where had she heard that name before?

Cullen grimaced. “Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”

“This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat,” Cassandra continued, gesturing to the Antivan.

“I’ve heard much. A pleasure to meet you at last, Lady Trevelyan,” she greeted gently.

“You know who I am?” Evelyn asked.

“Only because of Eri- the Champion, Herald.”

“For the last time, Josephine, just call me Erik. Being called the Champion of Andraste is just awkward,” Erik groaned. Josephine rolled her eyes and wrote something on a piece of parchment.

“And of course you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra finished.

The Orlesian gave a slight bow of her head. “My position here involves a degree of…”

“She’s the spymaster,” Erik cut her off in a light tone

Sister Leliana’s eyes shot daggers toward the man. “Yes. Tactfully put, Erik.”

“...That’s an impressive bunch of titles,” she said after a minute.

“And ‘Herald of Andraste’ is not?” Cullen laughed.

“Back on track, people. You had a plan,” Erik redirected.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” Cassandra began.

Leliana finished for her counterpart. “Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.”

The Commander grunted, his face twisting slightly as the scar on his lip pulled. “And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”

Cassandra sighed. She had a feeling this was an old argument. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark–”

“Might destroy us all,” Cullen cut off, “Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so–”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana argued coldly.

“ _ I _ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

Oh. Oh shit.  _ That’s _ where she knew that name from. She had heard the horror stories from Kirkwall, and Knight-Captain Cullen was second-in-command to Meredith Stannard at the time. She reflexively took a step or two back, her eyes wide. She felt a hand on her back as Erik moved quickly to her side.

“You just figure out he’s  _ that _ Cullen?” he asked her softly. She simply nodded.

“He’s a good man,” Erik argued, “He may have made mistakes in the past, but I promise you won’t come to harm around him.”

Cullen grunted and ran a thumb along his sword’s hilt absentmindedly. “I left my life as a Templar behind. I serve the Inquisition now, regardless of former affiliation.”

Evelyn took a deep breath and nodded to Erik. His hand left her back and he sat back down, drumming his fingers on his knee.

“Before we begin arguing again, why do we not ask the man who knows what our future holds? Champion, will the mages or Templars be a better option?”

Erik didn’t respond, simply raising his eyebrow at the Antivan. “That’s not my name.”

She sighed. “Erik, then. Are the mages or Templars a better option for the Breach?”

He shrugged and leaned back. “It doesn’t matter who you choose. Both will be effective enough to close it. Unfortunately, we lack the influence to approach both groups right now.”

Josephine nodded. “I agree on that much, at least The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you two, specifically.”

Evelyn barked out a cynical laugh. “That didn’t take long.”

The former Templar rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?”

“Some are calling you and Erik the ‘Herald of Andraste’ and ‘Champion of Andraste’, respectively, and that frightens the Chantry. The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra groaned.

“Oh, absolutely,” Erik agreed, “Guy’s a total twat.”

“Should we worry about him?” Leliana asked.

“No. he’s a toothless prick, all he’s gonna do for a while is whine.”

“His ‘whining’ severely limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question,” Josephine argued.

“So what can we do?” Evelyn asked tiredly.

“Mother Giselle,” Erik sighed from his corner.

Leliana sighed and closed her eyes. “Once again, Erik is right. A Chantry Cleric by the name Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you, Herald. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

Evelyn reasoned that they wouldn’t walk her into a trap this early. “I’ll see what she has to say,” she agreed.

The Spymaster nodded. “You’ll find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

“I’m coming with you,” Erik said with finality. She didn’t say anything, but she was silently relieved. She didn’t really know anyone here, but she trusted Erik. She felt more comfortable knowing he’d be watching her back.

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re there,” Cullen suggested.

Josephine nodded agreement. “We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Herald,” Cassandra finished.

And so they continued the meeting. Most of it went by in a blur, the six of them efficiently ironing out minutiae about payment, operations, and the workings of the Inquisition. After three hours, they finally wrapped up and prepared to leave.

“We’ll leave for the Hinterlands tomorrow,” Evelyn suggested.

“I agree. I’ll go grab some armor and weapons from Harritt,” Erik agreed.

“I would like to accompany you two,” Cassandra asked, “I’d feel more comfortable having a group travel out.”

“Then I’ll ask Varric and Solas to travel with the three of us, as well,” Evelyn decided.

Cassandra nodded and moved out of the room.

“Nice job today,” Erik praised, “I’m gonna get ready, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Likewise,” she smiled, and they parted ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Believer by Myrath - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uM1d7C8aOWk
> 
> As always, I don't own dialogue from the game, Bioware/EA do.


	6. Damage, Inc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn kills her first person. Erik has PTSD dreams and is salty about the Hinterlands.
> 
> Also, attempted rape warning. I know some people appreciate these warnings, so I figured I'd add one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaks indicate a change in POV.

Erik found Harritt rather easily and learned that Cullen had ordered a set of medium armor for him. It fit well, and it was still lighter than his full combat load in Group, so he was pleased. A longsword and shortsword were also requisitioned for him, and he took both graciously, placing them all in the corner of his cabin and quickly heading for bed.

He woke in a sweat long before dawn. Another Afghanistan dream. He could still see Isaac’s peaceful face as he bled internally from the IED blast. He could still feel the ringing in his ears from the Taliban’s ambush. It was too much to bear, so he pushed himself out of bed and splashed water on his face before donning his armor and weapons, grabbing his rifle and bag, and heading out into Haven.

He sat by the gate and waited for the sun to rise in silence, pushing all thought from his mind for a while. As much as he didn’t enjoy being displaced from his own world, he’d decided to make the most of it, and that meant clearing his thoughts and aiding his new allies in any way possible.

  
“You didn’t sleep?” a melodious voice asked from behind him.

He turned his head to see Leliana leaning against the front gate, eyeing him curiously. He studied her face for a long moment. She really was beautiful. He knew she was several years older than he, but the years hadn’t caught up with her. Her blue eyes held an incredible amount of intelligence, and her hair was a brighter red than his own. He shook himself from his observation and sighed.

“I did, just... “ he trailed off.

“Nightmares?” she asked as she sat next to him. He nodded and stared at the horizon in silence.

“I have them, too,” she admitted.

“The Blight?” he asked.

“I have to keep a candle lit when I retire, in case I wake in the middle of the night. As much as I miss traveling with Aedan and his companions, my friends, I don’t miss constantly having to fear a Darkspawn raid in the middle of the night.”

“I feel the same way… minus the Darkspawn,” he said. She let out a single laugh and they lapsed into silence for a moment.

“What were your wars like?” she asked, her normal coldness gone for the moment.

He thought about how to describe war in his world. “They were… horrible. The one I was a part of had been happening for nearly twenty years with no end in sight. We were fighting terrorist organizations, ghosts. Every time you stomp one out, something worse took its place. I’ve seen the absolute worst people had to offer… and I’ve seen the best. And my war wasn’t even the worst one.

“The worst one ended over seventy years ago, and it took place all over the world. Over sixty million people died, some systematically exterminated for following the wrong religion. It ended when my country dropped two nuclear bombs, the most powerful type of explosives we’ve ever devised, on a country that refused to surrender in a last ditch effort to simply end it. They both killed over two hundred thousand people instantaneously. Since then, every major country in the world has developed nuclear weapons more powerful than the ones we originally used. We have enough to end our civilizations in the blink of an eye, and leave the survivors in a dying world. The only thing preventing it is mutually assured destruction.”

Leliana was silent for a minute after he finished. “Your world sounds… bleak.”

“I suppose it would,” he laughed, “But it’s not all bad. We can cure almost any disease, keep children alive that otherwise would have died at birth, and save people from death. Our lifespans are much longer, and some people can live for a century, if they stay healthy. Major disease in cities is mostly a thing of the past, and we have flying machines that can take you around the world in a day.”

“You’re lying,” she laughed.

“I’m not! They… I suppose they’d look like giant metal birds, to you, flown by two people with hundreds of passengers inside. The mountains look so small from up there… it makes you realize how beautiful the world really is.”

“It sounds amazing,” she admitted.

He thought of something as he turned to her. “I jumped out of them as part of my job.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” she smiled. She really did have a pretty smile.

“I swear. We used these things called parachutes to slow our fall. Giant canvases that caught air and floated us down safely. We would use them to infiltrate an enemy country without anyone knowing. I know it sounds insane, but…” The bard raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, it’s pretty insane.” She laughed at his defeat, sending more butterflies through his stomach as he turned back to the now rising sun. They lapsed into companionable silence as the sun broke over the Frostbacks, warming the frigid mountain air.

“I should head back. Good luck in the Hinterlands, _Champion_ ,” she teased with his unwanted title.

“I’ll be sure to do my best, _Nightingale_ ,” he shot back. She gave one last smile and moved back into Haven.

The rest of the party immediately met him outside the gates, Evelyn with a raised eyebrow.

“Cozying up to the Spymaster, are we?” she teased.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

“I’m glad someone’s not scared of her. She terrifies me,” Varric admitted.

“Enough teasing,” Cassandra quickly cut their jabs off, “We have a job to do.”

“Indeed. We should get moving,” Solas agreed.

And so they moved down the pass into the Hinterlands without any more delay.

* * *

They moved quickly, Evelyn thought, although Cassandra and Erik were unhappy with their movement speed. It took three days of mostly silent travel to reach the outskirts of the Hinterlands, camping in small tents and getting little sleep on the cold ground. Erik spent most of his nights training with Cassandra and translating the Chant of Light; he couldn’t read the Common script, she learned, only Tevene. Evelyn answered any questions he had about the translation without a second thought. Tension between Varric and Cassandra was still high, and they said no more than five words to each other the entire time. On the fourth day, they finally reached the outskirts of the camp Leliana had promised her would be there. A cheerful dwarf with auburn hair greeted them as they approached.

“The Herald of Andraste! And Andraste’s Champion! I’ve heard the stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. It’s an honor to meet you both,” she greeted. Evelyn suppressed the urge to sigh.

“Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service,” she continued, “I — all of us here — we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?” Varric chuckled.

Harding looked perplexed. “I can’t say I have. Why?”

“You’d be Harding in… never mind,” Varric trailed off as he saw the look of disgust on Cassandra’s face at the dwarf’s attempted pun.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Scout Harding,” Evelyn greeted cordially, “Although I’m starting to worry about these “stories” that everyone’s heard.”

“Oh. There’s nothing to worry about. They only say you two are the last great hope for Thedas.”

Oh. Wonderful.

“The Hinterlands are as good a place as any to start fixing things,” the dwarf shrugged.

“What’s the deal?” Erik asked, his normally relaxed personality completely gone.

“We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horsemaster. I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet’s herd were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks,” Harding explained, bringing them over to a large map of the area, “But with the mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he’s even still alive.

“Mother Giselle’s at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out very long. You best get going. No time to lose.”

She nodded her thanks and headed off down the path before Erik grabbed her arm. She turned to find he’d already loaded his rifle and slung it on his back.

“As soon as we get down this mountain, we’re going to get into a fight,” he said loud enough for the whole group to hear.

“What is the situation?” Cassandra asked, shifting her scabbard slightly.

“There’s going to be rogue mages and Templars cutting down anyone they see at the Crossroads. Our forces will be there, trying to stop it, but they’ll need help,” he placed those strange muffs over his ears and pressed a button.

“Have you ever killed anyone before, Evelyn?” he asked, deathly serious.

She shrugged. “I know how to fight.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Erik shook his head, “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Evelyn bit her lip and shook her head. She hadn’t killed anyone, it was true. She only incapacitated when Ostwick fell, and only enough to get to safety.

Erik sighed. “Right, here’s how it’s going to go down. You’re going to attack anyone you see that’s engaging civilians or our forces. If anyone comes after you, kill them without second thought. Don’t hesitate. Hesitate, and you’re dead. Think you can do that?”

She nodded, far more nervous than before. She had no idea if she could do it.

“You watch our backs, we’ll watch yours,” he said with finality and pulled a handle on his ‘rifle’ before marching down the hill.

It didn’t take long to hear the fighting. It was louder than she expected, the clang of steel and explosions of magic carrying for several hundred meters up the hill. As soon as Erik heard the combat, he picked up pace until they found their destination.

The Crossroads was complete chaos. Mages and Templars slaughtered each other with reckless abandon, some targeting civilians in a twisted grab at power over the innocent. Children cowered in the shadows, combatants fell everywhere, and the smell of death and shit was everywhere. Inquisition soldiers did their best to keep the refugees safe, but they were outnumbered. The small river that ran through the Crossroads was slightly red with blood, and she resisted the urge to stop and stare in horror.

“Inquisition forces!” Cassandra called, drawing her sword and shield, “They’re trying to protect the refugees!”

“Looks like they could use a hand,” Varric said as he drew back his drawstring.

“Let’s move!” Erik shouted harshly, grabbing his rifle and sprinting forward before sliding behind a rock and taking aim. Two loud cracks and a Templar fell, his armor no match for Erik’s weapon. Cassandra cut down a mage, turning to another and her eyes flashing slightly as she _felt_ the lyrium in the mage’s veins catch fire. The mage fell to the ground, screaming in agony. She felt, more than saw, Solas throw three lightning bolts toward a Templar before ducking back behind cover while Varric slid behind a tree and fired a crossbow bolt at another mage attacking a refugee woman.

She moved forward as three more loud cracks rang out from Erik’s direction before she heard a grunt and the sound of metal on flesh as she turned to see him run a Templar through with his shortsword. Evelyn spotted a mage advancing on a young Inquisition soldier engaging a Templar, the man’s staff glowing slightly as he prepared to immolate the young man.

She didn’t hesitate. She called on her magic and froze the mage solid, watching in horror as he stopped moving and fell, cracking into several large pieces that were already thawing. She stopped in her tracks.

 _Sweet Maker. I just killed someone. I’m a murderer._ It was nothing like killing demons. Demons were malicious to their cores, attacking anyone they saw. The man she just killed… he probably had family, friends, a life. And she snuffed it out without thinking.

In the short time she was thinking about what she’d just done, Cassandra, Varric, Erik and Solas had downed six or seven more combatants, with Erik now switching to his swords. She shook the dark thoughts from her mind and threw a fireball at a Templar before he could purge the magic flowing through her. She lost sight of Erik and Solas as she moved forward shocking another mage standing calf-deep in the stream.

Then she turned around to find a Templar not six feet from her, winding up to swing at her with a mace. She froze in fear at the look of pure hatred on his helmless face. This was it. She was going to die, and the Inquisition was going to fail.

Then his head left his body and she heard the sickening sound of blood bubbling from the man’s neck as he fell forward, dead. Erik was standing behind her, his longsword streaked with red.

“ _Never_ hesitate,” he said sharply. Anything more he would have said was cut off by a crash and a loud scream from one of the houses, and Erik sprinted toward the source, dropping his sword in the grass and raising his rifle, standing just outside the door before kicking it in violently and moving swiftly into the building. Four loud cracks could be heard from the house, and the Crossroads were silent but for the burning of buildings, the moans of the dying, and the sobbing of children.

* * *

All things considered, Erik only spent twenty rounds during the fight, alternating as much as he could to his swords. He wrapped a blanket around the woman he’d saved from the Templar, her son clinging to the woman’s front and sobbing into her dress. After making sure she’d be alright, he moved to find Cassandra, who was cleaning her sword as she sat on a boulder.

“You fought well. Your swordplay is improved, although it still needs work,” she greeted him.

“It’ll always need work,” he said as he sat down next to her and began cleaning his own swords.

“True, though many believe there is an end to their improvement. It is good to see you do not share the same sentiment,” she paused, “Have you spoken to the Herald?”

He glanced over to where the young Marcher was sitting against a signpost, staring into space. “No. I probably should, come to think of it.”

She held her empty hand out. “Give me your blades. I’ll clean them; go speak to her. She did not look her best after the fight.” Erik wordlessly handed his weapons over and approached his friend.

“Hey, Ev.” She didn’t respond. He sat down next to her and handed her a waterskin, which she wordlessly took and drank.

“You did well, today,” he offered. She merely scoffed.

“I nearly died. You had to step in,” she mumbled.

“And Cassandra had to save me, and Solas had to save Cassandra,” he retorted, “That’s what fighting in a unit is about. We watch each other’s backs.”

They lapsed into silence for a few seconds before silent tears began to streak her dirty cheeks. “I’m a murderer,” she whispered. Erik wrapped an arm around her in support and comfort.

“No you’re not. You killed people, sure, but you saved lives today.”

“Is there a difference between killing and murdering?” she scoffed.

“Yes,” he said sternly, “Murder is an act performed in cold blood, and it’s premeditated. Killing is taking a life because you had to.”

She wiped her eyes. “I don’t feel clean,” she admitted. Erik pulled her closer, remembering his first firefight.

“Do you know what happened the first time I saw combat? I locked up for two minutes. I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do. One of my teammates had to kick my ass into gear before I realized that I had a duty to protect the men around me and the civilians in the area. And then I killed my first man. My first five men, actually. I felt sick for three days, afterward. Then my team sergeant approached me, this guy from a different country, originally. Came to mine to serve in our military and earn his citizenship. Best man I’ve ever known, and he killed more people than anyone I’d ever met. He looked me in the eye and said, ‘The only solution for evil and violent people are good people more skilled in violence.’

“That’s what we have to be. Good people, more skilled in violence than the bad. Those people you killed? They were horrible people. They wasted a life they were blessed with and chose to spread terror among people just trying to live in peace. That man I killed in the house? He was trying to _rape_ that woman. No good person would ever force themselves on someone like that. I’m sad that woman had to watch me kill someone, but I’m glad her son still has a mother that’s alive and mentally whole. You saved good people today. The Crossroads will recover because of what _you_ did.”

She sniffled and leaned her head into Erik’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. You’re my friend. I don’t want to see you suffer like that,” he drew her up and rubbed her back, “Now come on. Let’s go find Mother Giselle.”

They walked slowly to where they saw the woman in Chantry robes tending to a wounded Inquisition soldier. A mage stood by her side, hesitantly looking over the young soldier’s wounds.

“There are mages here who can heal your wounds. Lie still,” the Chantry Mother gently said to the young man.

“Don’t… let them touch me, Mother. Their magic…” Erik felt Evelyn tense at his side, but she kept moving.

Mother Giselle shook her head with a light smile. “Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade.”

“But…” the young man argued. He could see now that he could barely be called a man; he couldn’t be older than seventeen or eighteen.

“Hush, dear boy. Allow them to ease your suffering,” the Mother cut him off. The boy nodded and the mage let healing magic wash over his patient, sealing his wounds and stemming his bleeding as the boy let out a sigh of relief.

“Mother Giselle?” Evelyn asked. The Chantry Mother turned to them, and Erik could see that she was slightly older than the game depicted. Perhaps in her sixties, with chocolate skin and warm, kind eyes as they approached.

“I am. And you must be the ones they’re calling the Herald of Andraste and the Champion of Andraste,” she greeted.

Erik nodded. “That’s what people are calling us.”

“Not through any choice of mine,” Evelyn grumbled.

“We seldom have much say in our fate, I’m sad to say,” Mother Giselle responded with a soft smile.

“So you agree with them?” Evelyn asked.

“I do not presume to know the Maker’s intentions, for any of us. But I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me.”

“Then why did you ask for us?” Mother Giselle gestured for them to join her, and they followed her as she walked away from her clinic.

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement, and I’m familiar with those behind it,” Giselle explained, “I won’t lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…”

“What happened was horrible,” Evelyn agreed. Erik nodded.

“Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason. Go to them. Convince the remaining Clerics you are no demons to be feared. They have heard only frightening tales of you two. Give them something else to believe.”

“That won’t just make it worse?” Evelyn asked.

Giselle cocked her head slightly. “Because you are a mage?”

“That too,” the Herald shrugged.

“Could it be worse than it is?” Giselle asked.

“We almost got dragged to Val Royeaux for our execution, so it could be much worse,” Erik argued. He couldn’t let her know he knew what would happen in Val Royeaux.

“Let me put it this way,” the Chantry Mother explained, “You needn’t convince them all. You just need some of them to _doubt_. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.”

Erik nodded. “It’s good of you to do this.”

Giselle stood straighter and addressed both of them. “I honestly don’t know if two have been touched by fate or sent to help us… but I hope,” she explained, “And hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us. I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry that would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.” 

She turned and left with a nod.

“Come on,” Evelyn dragged Erik back to the Crossroads, “There’s still a lot to do here before we push out through the Hinterlands.”

* * *

They spent the better part of the day helping the people at the Crossroads in any way they could. Varric and Erik went hunting for ram, but the blankets that the Inquisition had planned to give to the refugees had been stolen by the main body of rogue Templars. Evelyn made note and waited for the dwarf and offworlder to return to the Crossroads.

When they did, they had nearly twenty dead rams in tow. They had to borrow a cart and horse from a merchant to bring it all back, but they brought food nonetheless. The refugees were relieved they would eat that night, even if they would potentially be cold for the night. Evelyn had other plans.

“I found this map on one of the Templars,” Evelyn explained to her group, “I think it’s the location of the Templar camp.” Erik peered over her shoulder at the map.

“Great. We’ll hit it tonight,” he suggested, “The camp is less than seven miles from here. We’ll make good time if we leave now, and there will still be enough daylight for reconnaissance.”

“Is that wise? You have been hunting all day,” Cassandra pointed out.

“I’ve walked far further in a day,” Erik defended, “Besides, if we don’t get those blankets, these people will go cold.”

“I agree with Erik. We should go now,” Evelyn said resolutely.

And so they moved through the valley towards the rogue mage camp, Erik “requisitioning” a dagger from a man named Corporal Vale.

They made it to the camp by nightfall, and Erik silently gestured for Evelyn and Varric to follow him. They made their way up a hill and over the camp, peering down at the camp from their hidden vantage point.

“I count eleven in the camp. No, twelve,” Varric whispered, pointing to the last man, appearing to be their leader.

“We’ll wait for nightfall and take them out when they go to bed. It’s not wise to attack openly, we’re outnumbered,” Erik murmured back.

“What were you thinking?” Evelyn asked nervously.

“Sneak in under darkness, kill the sentries, and then take everyone else out. Loot everything afterward.”

Evelyn took a deep breath and sighed. She knew the killing was necessary, but she still wasn’t comfortable with it.

“Alright. You seem to have experience with this, we’ll do it your way.”

So they waited and slept in the woods. And waited. And waited. Hours later, Erik woke them all up, each one drawing a dagger as they crept silently towards the back of the camp.

“Remember, no magic,” Erik whispered. He scaled the wall with ease, leaving a foot hanging for Varric to grab onto before pulling the dwarf up. Cassandra hoisted Evelyn up next, followed by Solas.

They dropped silently into the camp. Evelyn was impressed with how silently Erik moved, dagger in hand. He had clearly done this before, masking his footsteps in a rolling movement and breathing through his nose as he moved toward the first sentry. Once everyone was in position behind a guard, he nodded and grabbed the guard’s mouth, masking his noise of shock and driving the dagger between his collarbone and neck before quickly shifting to his kidney, kicking his target over the cliff below.

Evelyn copied his movement and was disgusted with the resistance the man’s muscles had against her dagger but drove it into his torso nonetheless. _This is to help better people than this man_ , she reminded herself. Cassandra and Solas’s targets were already dead, and Varric quickly dropped a bolt into the last guard’s neck before retrieving it.

They moved into the tents and took out everyone sleeping swiftly. By the time Erik had come out of the leader’s tent, he was covered in blood to his elbows.

“We’re clear,” he confirmed.

They cleaned off and looted every chest they could find, loading all the materials and weapons onto the Templar horses before making their way back to the Crossroads with Evelyn lost in thought. She knew she would have to fight, but she didn’t expect it to be this _violent_. She’d killed nearly a dozen people just today, and they were only a day into their two week stay in the Hinterlands. How many more people would she have to kill before they returned to Haven?

When they returned, they were greeted with a cheer from the Inquisition soldiers, who began handing the supplies out to the refugees before handing them each a plate of ram meat and an apple. As her group sat around the fire and she heard the Inquisition soldiers and scouts laugh and tell stories, she relaxed just a bit. It may not be what she’d expected, but she knew they were doing good here. And that was enough.

Her spirits were lifted even higher when she saw the state of the Crossroads when she awoke. Merchants had returned to the former warzone, with Inquisition soldiers forming a security perimeter around the safe haven. The refugees, while still traumatized, looked much more at peace with warm blankets and food in their bellies, and much of the destruction caused by the skirmish yesterday was being rebuilt already with the help of their forces. By the time they left to continue their work throughout the Hinterlands, they departed with a hero’s farewell, many praising the Inquisition, and the Herald and Champion specifically.

* * *

It was official. Erik fucking hated the Hinterlands. It was Afghanistan all over again; everything was trying to kill them, the hills and mountains were steep, and they walked everywhere. To make matters worse, it was forested and humid, as if the Maker decided to spice it up with the shitty parts of Fort Bragg just to fuck with him. They’d found Horsemaster Dennet easily enough and taken care of both the guard tower locations and the possessed wolf situation, earning them each a personal horse and the promise of Dennet’s aid for their cause, after Cassandra’s persuasion.

“Thank fucking _god_ ,” Erik bit out as he climbed onto his horse, a strong, confident but slightly stubborn Fereldan Forder he’d named Isaac, after the friend he’d lost last deployment. Once the others were mounted up they set out once more, continuing the work of the Inquisition.

Which meant being in constant danger for two weeks straight. They did everything they could, from the little things like helping individual people to taking out the rebel mage stronghold by the end of the first week. They even gained the allegiance of that Andrastian cult Erik had completely forgotten about, much to the amusement of Varric and Solas. By the time they’d sent their message notifying Haven of their imminent return, the Hinterlands were stable and recovering from the calamity the war had caused. They rode in mostly exhausted silence on the way home. Since when did he consider Haven home?

Erik could see that the Inquisition had grown from hundreds of meters out. Their military forces must have tripled, and merchants and tradesmen haggled the exterior of Haven now. Dennet, who had rode a week ahead of them with his horses, greeted them and took their mounts as they stumbled through the gates of the pilgrim town, absolutely exhausted.

Leliana, Josephine and Cullen were the next to greet them.

“I understand you had a successful trip,” Cullen greeted as he shook Erik’s hand.

“Very. We’re also very exhausted and very filthy,” Evelyn responded in a haggard voice.

“I’ve taken the liberty of having baths drawn for all of you,” Josephine noted, writing something down on her notepad, “I’m sure our meeting can wait until tomorrow.”

“That would be best,” Cassandra agreed.

“Anyone gonna eat after they bathe? I’m starving,” Varric asked, rolling the shoulder where he’d been barreled over by a hyper-aggressive bear six days prior.

“I’m eating and getting trashed,” Erik sighed, “Josephine, you’re a gift to the Inquisition for having those baths drawn. I’m heading over before it goes cold.”

“Before you go,” the Antivan stopped him, handing each of them a decent-sized pouch that clinked as they were dropped into their hands.

“What’s this?” Evelyn asked.

“Your salaries,” Leliana explained, “We secured a decent amount of funding while you were away, on top of the slush fund left for us by Justinia.” Erik stared at the pouch and opened it. Gold. Real, tangible gold coins.

“We’re getting paid?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting may become slightly more erratic from here on out. I'm about to be out of my country for several months, and there's no telling what the internet situation will be like where I'm going, but I promise to continue working on this as much as I can.
> 
> I'm not trying to write Evelyn as weak. I'm trying to write her as inexperienced. It's a big deal the first time you kill someone. It stays with you for a very, very long time, and it takes a while to get over. I hope I captured the gravity of the act well.
> 
> Seriously, though, fuck the Hinterlands. There's a reason I skipped most of it.
> 
> Title comes from Damage, Inc. by Metallica - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx-8UxBKUEo
> 
> I'm lazy and don't own in-game dialogue.


	7. Firestarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn drinks and has a chat with Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly fluff here, folks.

Evelyn was drunk. She was very, very drunk. It was a bad idea to let Erik rope her into drinking with him and Varric that night. The tavern’s patrons had cheered when they’d entered after they bathed, but she didn’t like all the attention. Even as they drank, people kept approaching them and praising them for what they’d done in the Hinterlands. She still hadn’t gotten over all the death she’d dealt during their little trip; she’d killed so many she lost count by the end of the first week. The alcohol didn’t help the situation at first, but Erik had recognized it and distracted her with stories from his homeland.

She looked over to where the man was standing on a chair, teaching a crowd of people some song or another, probably from his homeland. She really did enjoy his company; he acted like a protective older brother more times than not, even if they were the same age. He’d made sure she was as comfortable as she could be her entire time in the Hinterlands and warned her of everything before they encountered it. It was endearing, if a bit frustrating.

Still, it was a bit unnerving to see his kind, jovial side vanish when they drew their weapons. He was ruthless and cold during fights, placing brutal efficiency over mercy. He still protected her, definitely, but he killed any enemy he encountered without mercy or remorse. And then they return here and he just… switches it off. It was like two completely different people.

She noticed Varric staring at her as if he’d asked her a question. She must have missed it while she was lost in thought.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat what you said?” she asked the very drunk dwarf.

“I said-” he hiccuped, “I’m glad you came here with us tonight. You needed to decompress after that shitshow.”

She thought for a moment. He was right. She really  _ did _ need this. She’d enjoyed most of the night, even if she felt awkward with all the attention they’d received. Leliana had stopped by earlier and shared a few cups of wine, and it was extremely entertaining to watch Erik nervously flirt with the Spymaster and completely miss her signals in return. Cullen had even stopped by for dinner, and she had a short, if awkward conversation with him. The former Templar was kind, and  _ extremely _ handsome, but his former occupation and history in Kirkwall made her extremely jumpy around him, something Erik pointed out as soon as the Commander left.

“You’re right, I suppose,” she slurred.

“Of course I’m right,” Varric laughed, “And when I’m not, I lie about it. It’s good to relax after a trip like that.”

A bout of cheering and laughter came from the corner where Erik had formed his crowd, and he stumbled back over to their table.

“I am blackout fucking drunk,” he laughed.

“You’ll regret that in the morning when we have to debrief,” Evelyn pointed out.

“So will you, Ev. Seriously, I’ve been drinking my whole adult life. How much booze did they let you have in the Circle?”

“Hardly any,” she admitted, eliciting another laugh from Erik.

“You’ll probably be worse off than I will,” he predicted, “Come on. We should probably head home if we don’t wanna puke all over the war table tomorrow.”

She didn’t disagree, so she said her goodbyes to Varric and stumbled after Erik, giggling as he missed the door handle on his first try. She stepped out into the night expecting to find it frigid, but…

“It’s not that cold,” she realized.

“It’s because we’re sloshed,” Erik mumbled as he trudged directly through a snow drift. She could see their houses coming up and could hear her bed calling, so she picked up the pace slightly. She finally reached her front door, fumbling with the handle before finally opening it.

“Goodnight,” she called to Erik.

“'Night, Ev. Thanks for coming out with us. Wake me up if I’m not up before you, please?”

“Will, do,” she agreed, stumbling toward her… ooh bed! She was asleep before she even hit her pillow.

Evelyn woke to someone poking her side. She groaned and rolled over into her pillow, blocking out all light sources. She briefly considered shocking whoever was trying to wake her, but she figured it’d be rude. So she resigned to simply ignoring them.

“Get up, Ev. We’re late.”

Late? Late for what? She had no idea what Erik was talking about…

Erik. Haven. Meeting. Right. She forced herself upright and immediately regretted it. The room began to spin and she nearly threw up. She quickly cast a spell and got rid of her awful hangover, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“Did you just magic your hangover away?” Erik asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“Can you do that for me?”

“No. You woke me up,” she joked before casting the same spell on her friend. His face regained some color and he sighed in relief.

“Come on. We’re late to the debrief. I brought you breakfast,” he said, handing her a bread roll and some dried ram. She took both graciously and ate as she crawled off her bed.

“What happened last night?” Erik asked. Evelyn snorted back a laugh.

“Let’s see, you blacked out, taught Haven a handful of drinking songs, lost two Wicked Grace games to Varric, flirted with the Spymaster-”

“I was hitting on Leliana?” he asked in a shocked tone. She nodded, not even bothering to hide her smirk. Erik sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

“This meeting is going to be so awkward,” he groaned.

“You were the one flirting, not me,” she retorted.

“I seem to recall you stealing nervous glances with the Commander,” he jabbed. Her eyes shot wide and she nearly choked on her ram.

“What? No! It was nothing like that, I just-”

“Uh huh. Sure,” he cut her off, “Come on. We gotta move. I promise to refrain from making fun of your little crush until we’re done with this bullshit.”

Thank the Maker for her magic- after a meal and her magic, her hangover was gone entirely. Erik seemed to be faring well, too, though she noticed small bags under his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, she realized belatedly. She decided it was best not to bring it up as they made their way to the war room.

Erik was right. They really were late. Cullen, Josephine, Cassandra, and Leliana were already gathered around the war table, with Josephine reading some book or another while Cullen and Leliana discussed something in a hushed tone. Cassandra was merely pacing impatiently in the corner.

“Sorry we’re late,” Erik began as they entered the room, “We, ah-”

“Enjoy last night?” Leliana shot teasingly, a slight smirk on her lips as she glanced at the pair.

“Last night, yes. This morning, not so much,” the offworlder admitted.

“Well, now that you’re both here, we can begin,” Josephine declared, clearly trying to get the meeting going. Evelyn did notice subtle glances the Antivan shot between Erik and the Orlesian bard, however.

“Right. I’m assuming you all received our reports during our excursion?” Evelyn asked.

“They did,” Cassandra nodded cautiously, “Mother Giselle arrived in Haven a few days after our arrival in the Hinterlands, and Josephine managed to set up a potential meeting between the Inquisition and some of the more amenable Chantry Mothers in the capital.”

“With the work they did in the Hinterlands, having the Herald and Champion address the clerics is not a terrible idea,” Josephine pointed out

“You can’t be serious,” Cullen scoffed.

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong: at the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion,” the Antivan debated.

Leliana raised an eyebrow and clasped her hands behind her. “And we should ignore the danger we’d place them in?” Josephine turned in question toward Evelyn and Erik.

“What can they do? It’s just talk,” Evelyn rolled her eyes.

“Do not underestimate the power of their words. An angry mob will do you in just as quickly as a blade,” Leliana pointed out.

“From what I’ve seen, we won’t be in much danger,” Erik explained, “Although, it’ll be less of a meeting and more of a public spectacle.”

“A public spectacle? How so?” Cullen shifted his weight slightly, gazing at Erik.

“The Templars will be there. Some Chantry Mother named Hevara will be there, riling up the crowd, when we arrive. She’ll say we’re heretics, blah blah blah, and then she’ll claim the Templars have returned to the Chantry. Then she’ll get hit in the face by one of them. Lord Seeker Lucius will grandstand, then he’ll have the Templars leave Val Royeaux.”

“Lord Seeker Lucius has always been a reasonable man,” Cassandra shook her head, “I do not believe that he would do such a thing.”

Erik shrugged. “I could be wrong, but I doubt it. It’s going to shake people’s faith in the Chantry and give us a couple chances to get the aid we need with the Breach.”

“I will accompany you two then, in case things go awry,” Cassandra decided. Evelyn relaxed slightly. She’d never been to Val Royeaux, and having the Seeker with them would save them a world of trouble in the city.

“Is there anything else we should know?” Evelyn asked her friend.

“We’ll have the opportunity to recruit a Friend of Red Jenny while we’re in the city. There isn’t any reason not to recruit her, and her contacts will help quite a bit,” Erik sighed and clenched his jaw, “We’ll also have the chance to recruit First Enchanter Vivienne. She’s only going to ask to join the Inquisition to increase her own influence in the Game, but her contacts and magical ability will be extremely useful, as much as I always hated the woman.”

“Vivienne de Fer is a viper, no doubt,” Leliana agreed, “But your analysis is likely correct. Her aid will increase our own standing among the nobility more than it increases hers. I’m also aware of these Friends of Red Jenny. Their legend among the common folk will help our influence among the people if word spreads that we have a Friend on our side.”

Josephine wrote a few notes down on her ever-present writing pad. “I’ll notify our people in Val Royeaux that you should arrive in two weeks’ time. I believe it would be best if you left tomorrow.”

“Wait,  _ tomorrow _ ?” Evelyn sputtered, “We just got back! Why don’t we just charter a ship from Jader?” Josephine seemed to think for a moment before speaking again.

“It would delay your departure, and we have already informed our forces you would be traveling by road.”

“So let them know there’s been a change of plans,” Erik demanded, “If we travel by ship it’ll probably take half as much time, meaning this excursion will take two weeks instead of a month, even if it does mean a few more days in Haven.”

Josephine thought for a moment, then sighed in acquiescence. “Very well. I’ll have a ship chartered in Jader. It will take a few days, however.” Evelyn sighed in relief. She wasn’t looking forward to two weeks on horseback, and leaving not two days after they returned from the Hinterlands, no less.

“Is there anything else?” Cullen asked.

“There are a few things,” Leliana confirmed, and they delved into dozens more minor things that needed attention. After two more hours, the meeting was adjourned, and she wandered out of the Chantry.

She ended up sparring with Solas for several hours, and the elf pointed out a couple deficiencies in her barriers and combat magic. As knowledgeable as he was, she was curious how he became so knowledgeable in magic, especially as a true apostate mage. She didn’t sense blood magic from his aura, so she accepted the story that he learned his magic from memories in the Fade, for now. She wandered back into the village, hoping to find Adan and grab a handful more potions for their journey to Val Royeaux.

What she found instead was an argument outside the Chantry, Templars on one side and mages on the other. She sighed and gingerly approached the heated argument, praying it wouldn’t turn into a brawl.

“Your kind killed the Most Holy!” a Templar shouted, shoving a robed mage away from him. The mage sneered.

“Lies — your kind let her die,” he shouted back to the Templar.

“Shut your mouth, mage!” The Templar moved to draw his sword when Cullen stormed in between the two aggressors, shoving both of them back with a surprising amount of force.

“Knight-Captain!” the Templar saluted, his compatriots following suit.

Cullen grunted in frustration. “ _ That is not my title _ . We are  _ not  _ Templars any longer. We are  _ all  _ part of the Inquisition.” His glares shot at both groups were wielded like deadly weapons.

“And what does that mean, exactly?” Roderick approached, hands clasped behind his back and a smug look on his face. Maker, Evelyn hated the man. She had avoided him as much as possible during her short time in Haven, but it seemed this confrontation was unavoidable, now that she was five feet from the altercation.

“Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?” Cullen sighed in exasperation.

Roderick shrugged. “I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and it’s “Herald” will restore order as you’ve promised.”

The Commander rolled his eyes. “Of course you are,” he turned to the crowd of aggressors, “Back to your duties, all of you.” Evelyn approached the two men, her dislike for the Chancellor fueling her steps.

“Mages and Templars were already at war,” Cullen sighed, “Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.”

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order,” the Chancellor argued.

Cullen barked a sardonic laugh “Who, you? Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

The rebel Inquisition and it’s so-called “Herald of Andraste”?” the Chantry representative sneered, “I think not.”

“If the ‘proper’ authority hadn’t completely failed, the Conclave wouldn’t have been needed,” Evelyn shot at the Chancellor.

“So you suggest I blame the Chantry and exalt a murderer? What of Justice?” Evelyn decided enough was enough. She wouldn’t use her magic to attack the man, but she’d be damned if she didn’t do something. So she slapped him as hard as she could.

“I am  _ not _ a murderer, you sniveling leech,” she growled, “I had as little to do with what happened at the Conclave as you did. If you keep calling me a murderer, perhaps I’ll show you what a murderer  _ really _ looks like.” The Chancellor’s eyes were wide with fear at her threat as he cradled the side of his face where she struck him.

A hand was laid on her shoulder, and she jumped slightly, turning to find Cullen, his gaze understanding.

“This won’t help anything, Herald,” he said softly. Evelyn took a shaky breath and let her rage dissipate. Roderick stood straighter, his eyes still slightly fearful.

“Order will never be restored so long as this  _ rebellion _ is allowed to fester,” he finally said before fleeing. Evelyn sighed wearily.

“I feel like that’s going to come back to bite me,” she mumbled.

“He deserved it,” Cullen defended, “I’m surprised you didn’t do more, to be honest. Calling you a murderer to your face was uncalled for.”

“Remind me why we’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?”

“He’s toothless,” the former Templar shrugged, “There’s no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth. The Chancellor’s a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.”

“Well, let’s hope we find a solution, and not a cathedral full of Chancellors.,” Evelyn joked. The Commander let out a soft laugh, the scar on his lip tugging at his smile. How did it make him even  _ more _ handsome? Evelyn pushed the tingling in her gut aside as Cullen shook his head.

“The stuff of nightmares,” he agreed. They lapsed into awkward silence. She decided to make small talk to keep the conversation going.

“I’d like to know more about the Templars.”

Cullen blinked slightly at the question and tilted his head. “If you need insight into what the Order is doing now, I’m afraid I can’t offer more than you already know. Anything else, I will answer as best I can, though you probably know most of our duties, with your time in the Circle.”

She supposed he was right, but she pressed on regardless, “Why did you join the Order?”

“I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need,” he explained, “I used to beg the Templars at our local Chantry to teach me. At first they merely humored me, but I must have shown promise. Or at least a willingness to learn. The Knight-Captain spoke to my parents on my behalf. They agreed to send me for training. I was thirteen when I left home.”

Thirteen? Not much older than she was when she was taken to the Ostwick Circle. She could still remember the look of detached disgust on her mother’s face as her brother sobbed into her skirts, begging her not to go. She pushed the dark memory from her mind.

“Thirteen – that’s still so young,” she pointed out.

The Commander shrugged as they walked towards the front gate. “I wasn’t the youngest there. Some children are promised to the Order at infancy. Still, I didn’t take on full responsibilities until I was eighteen. The Order sees you trained and educated first.”

“What about your family – did you miss them?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “But there were many my age who felt the same. We learned to look out for one another.” She nodded, understanding the feeling of kinship she felt from the other mages when she arrived at the Circle.

“Do templars do anything besides hunt mages?” she asked nervously.

“I’m sure that a Circle mage would only know that side of our duties,” he admitted, “But Templars also protect against the dangers of magic. Before the Order left the Chantry, that meant serving in a Circle. They were also tasked with tracking apostates or fighting demons inevitably summoned by the weak or malicious.” She knew about demon summoning. She’d seen her fair share in the chaos that followed Ostwick’s fall last year.

“What do  _ you _ think of mages? Are we all a threat?” she asked as she played with the hem of her blouse.

“I’ve seen the suffering magic can inflict. I’ve treated mages with distrust because of it – at times without cause,” he said softly, sith an overtone of sorrow, “That was unworthy of me. I’ll try not to do so here. Not that I want mages moving through our base completely unchecked. We need safeguards in place to protect people – including mages – from possession, at the least.”

On that, she could agree, at least. There would always be mages too weak to protect from the prodding and pestering of demons. She just didn’t know how those safeguards could be enforced without removing freedom from herself and her fellow mages.

“You’ve lived in the Circle. What was a typical day for a Templar there?”

He laughed, sending butterflies through her stomach. “'Typical.’ The last time I was in a Circle was right before it fell apart.  _ Nothing _ was typical.”

“Before that, then.”

“Certain rituals require a full guard, as I’m sure you’ve experienced. Harrowings, for instance. I’ve attended a few, myself. Most of the time you merely maintain a presence – on patrol or in the Circle, ready to respond if needed. Mages pretend to ignore that presence, but they’re watching you just as closely, as I’m sure you know.”

“What does Templar training involve?” She was legitimately curious about the training her former jailors had to endure, in a morbid way.

“There is weapon and combat training,” the Commander shrugged, “Even without their abilities, Templars are among the best warriors in Thedas. Initiates must also memorize portions of the Chant of Light, study history, and improve their mental focus.”

“Did you enjoy it? Your training, I mean.”

His eyes turned melancholic, a wistful gaze falling over his handsome features. “I wanted to learn everything. If I was giving my life to this, I would be the best I could be.”

“You were a model student,” she teased.

“I wanted to be,” he laughed, “I wasn’t always successful. Watching a candle burn down while reciting the Chant of Transfigurations wasn’t the most exciting task. I admit, my mind sometimes wandered.”

“Do Templars take vows? ‘I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages’ – that sort of thing?”

“There’s a vigil when you complete training. You’re meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change. When it’s over, you give yourself to a life of service. That’s when you’re given a philter – your first draught of lyrium – and its power. As Templars, we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgment. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen.”

“A life of service and sacrifice.” She decided to take a leap of faith for reasons she didn’t fully understand. “Are Templars also expected to give up… physical temptations?”

“Physical? Why…” he cleared his throat, a blush working its way across his face and to his ears, “Why would you… That’s not expected. Templars can marry – although there are rules about it, and the Order must grant permission… Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it’s, um, not required.”

“Have you?” she asked, nervousness building in her stomach.

“Me? I… um… no. I’ve taken no such vows.” Evelyn felt a ball of anxiety unravel; she wasn’t even aware it was there. 

“Maker’s breath – can we speak of something else?” he asked nervously. She bit her lip and tried to think about anything else to talk about. She settled on Cullen as a person.

“I should get to know you better. We are working together, after all.”

Cullen rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “What would you like to know?”

“All right,” she thought, “Where are you from?”

“I grew up in Ferelden, near Honnleath. I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight. This is the first I’ve returned in almost ten years.”

“You were in Ferelden during the Blight. Did you fight darkspawn?”

He shook his head. “No. I was stationed at Ferelden’s Circle Tower. The Circle had troubles of its own. I… remained there during the Blight.” Evelyn winced slightly. She’d heard about Kinloch Hold. She’d heard the stories of the Hero of Ferelden scaling the tower to face the blood mages that had taken the Circle. Cullen was clearly apprehensive to speak about it, so she didn’t press.

“You were in Kirkwall, too. What was that like?”

“While I lived there, Qunari occupied and then attacked the city, a half-crazed woman stabbed the Arishok to death, the viscount’s murder caused political unrest, relations between mages and Templars fell apart, an apostate blew up the Chantry, and the Knight-Commander went mad.” They both fell silent.

“Other than that, it was fine,” he joked with a wry grin. She felt her face heat up and she glanced to the ground.

“What happened between Kirkwall’s mages and Templars?”

“You were at the Conclave. You must have heard people speak of it,” he pointed out.

“Well yes, but you were  _ there _ .”

He sighed. “There was tension between mages and Templars long before I arrived. Eventually, it reached a breaking point when Anders destroyed the Chantry and the Rite of Annulment was issued… there was fighting in the streets. Abominations began killing both sides. It was a nightmare.”

“What happened then?”

“The Templars  _ should _ have restored order, but red lyrium had driven Knight-Commander Meredith mad,” he recalled, “She threatened to kill Kirkwall’s Champion and turned on her own men. I’m not sure how far she would have gone. Too far.”

“So you opposed her?”

Cullen grimaced. “I stood with Hawke against her, in the end. But I should have seen through Meredith sooner.” He sounded truly remorseful.

“Varric’s from Kirkwall. Did you two know each other?” she asked, trying to steer him from his grim memories.

“I knew he was friends with the Champion of Kirkwall, but little else,” he shrugged, “We’ve spoken more since I joined the Inquisition. Largely at Varric’s insistence. Apparently I spend too much time with a serious expression on my face, and it’s bad for my health.”

“Well, he’s right you know,” she joked, “You should loosen up a bit, Commander. It wouldn’t hurt for the soldiers to see their Commander as a person now and then.”

“That’s what Erik said, as well. There’s just… too much to do, for now.”

“I understand,” she nodded as they reached the training grounds, “I’ve kept you long enough. I’m sure you’ve much to do.”

Cullen nodded and turned toward his command tent before stopping and turning back to her. “Thank you for the company. I rather enjoyed our little talk.”

She smiled gingerly, her face flushing once more. “I enjoyed it, as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song comes from Firestarter by The Prodigy - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmin5WkOuPw
> 
> Roderick's a prick. I always wanted to hit him, So Evelyn's little outburst is me living vicariously through her.
> 
> Bioware/EA owns in-game dialogue, as always.


	8. The Gift of Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik talks philosophy with Leliana and gets a bit depressed on a boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly filler once again. We'll get back to the story next chapter.

Erik approached the Spymaster’s tent, rifle and bag in hand. He knew he couldn’t take his rifle to Val Royeaux, but he didn’t trust that there weren’t already spies in the Inquisition’s ranks, even this early in its existence. And the only person he completely trusted to keep it safe was Leliana. As he made his way to the mouth of the tent, however, he saw the Orlesian kneeling over a crate, hands clasped in front of her, and his heart dropped into his stomach as he immediately recognized this scene.

“'Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written.’ Is that what you want from us? Blood? To die so that your will is done? Is death your only blessing?” She noticed his awkward presence and glanced at him with a small amount of anger.

“You were sent by Andraste, no? What does the man who knows our futures, who knows the will of the Maker, have to say about all of this? What’s His game?”

Ironic that she would call it a game, he thought, but he followed along with the dialogue anyways. “How is this a game?”

The Bard scoffed and stood. “Do you see the sky? What about the temple ruins? The bones lying in the dust? Even if you didn’t support the Divine’s peace you wouldn’t call this right. Who could? So many innocent lives – the faithful murdered where the Holiest of Holies once stood. If the Maker willed this, what is it if not a game or a cruel joke?” Leliana was nearly in tears by the end of her tirade, and it made him hurt seeing her like this.

He sighed and sat on the crate. “I speak for no one but myself, and I have no concrete answers for you.”

She scoffed. “Knowing your origins, you probably don’t even worship the Maker. Lucky. He asks a lot. The Chantry teaches that the Maker abandoned us. He demands repentance for our sins. He demands it all. Our lives. Our deaths. Justinia gave Him everything she had, and He let her die!”

“I said I didn’t have _concrete_ answers, Leliana. I didn’t say I had no answers.” The Spymaster looked at him expectantly, her arms crossed and weight shifted on one hip.

“Do you know what happens when a child grows up?” he asked.

“They leave their parents,” she said slowly.

“Exactly. I’m not sure how it works here, but on Earth it’s a bit awkward and taboo for children _not_ to leave their parents at some point. Every bird has to leave the nest at some point. They’ll even be forced out by their parent.”

“I don’t see your point,” she snapped.

“Just because a parent kicks their child out to face the world doesn’t mean they love them any less. Even if they stumble and make mistakes along the way. They’ll always care for their children, and always hope for their well-being, even when they can’t help directly. I’d argue the Maker is the same way. Life wouldn’t grow if He guided us every step of the way. We need to make mistakes to become better, and sometimes those mistakes are grave.” She studied him, her eyes slightly narrowed, clearly thinking about his argument.

“What happened on that mountain was horrible. But Justinia dedicated her life to bringing hope to others. You know that better than I do. Her death doesn’t overshadow the things she did to help others. If not for her foresight, the Inquisition wouldn’t exist, and we wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell of stopping this war,” he continued. Leliana sat next to him and stared at her hands.

“But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Her death has clearly hit you hard.”

“Not just me,” she sighed, “All of us. She was the Divine. She led the faithful. She was their heart! If the Maker doesn’t intervene to save the best of His servants, what good is He? I used to believe I was chosen, just as some say you are. I thought I was fulfilling His purpose for me, working with the Divine, helping people. But now she’s dead. It was all for nothing. Serving the Maker meant nothing.”

“And you think all the good you’ve done is overshadowed by the fact that Justinia’s gone? I don’t believe that. You helped stop the Fifth Blight. You helped start the Inquisition. You’ve done countless other things I probably don't even know about that’s brought stability and peace to Thedas. Giving your life in service to something greater doesn’t mean nothing, even after such a tragedy like this. People have the capacity for horrendous evil, but your purpose isn’t gone because of bad people doing bad things.”

The Bard was silent once more. He gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulder.

“Like I said, I know what it’s like to lose the people you care about. If you want to talk some more-”

“No, this is my burden,” she said quickly, shooting up from her seat, “I regret that I even let you see me like this.”

“Hurting is part of being human,” he responded softly but sternly, “Just because it’s your burden doesn’t mean people aren’t willing to share the load.”

She didn't respond to his argument. “Was there a reason you came?”

Erik sighed and shook his head. He did what he could. He just wouldn’t get through to her today.

“I can’t take my rifle to Val Royeaux, and I don’t trust the general Inquisition with it sitting in my room. As a matter of fact, you’re the only one I trust to keep it secure.”

“You’re worried about spies,” she surmised.

“Among other things,” he nodded before glancing around and continuing softly, “This bag has about eight hundred rounds in it. Like I said, there isn’t anyone here who could manufacture them, and we don’t have the influence yet to recruit the only woman who could possibly succeed in replicating it. Take some of the ammunition for yourself. Should something happen to me, you’ll still have enough for Dagna to study it and make something more powerful than gaatlok.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow. “The dwarf Dagna? The one Aedan helped in Orzammar?”

“The same. We don’t have the influence to recruit her yet, but we will. Take some rounds, keep them separate from my rifle. Keep them both safe. I trust you with this.”

Leliana thought for a moment before taking the offered weapon and bag. “Very well.”

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to make sure we don’t burn down Val Royeaux while we’re there,” he joked.

“And I’ll make sure we don’t burn down Haven while you’re gone,” she laughed softly. They stared at each other in silence for a few more moments before he gave one last sad smile and left.

The ride to Jader was nowhere as bad as the walk to the Hinterlands, though he’d never rode a horse for such a long duration before, and it was evident every time he climbed down from Isaac. The inside of his legs burned and his back was not happy with him, but they made good time; it only took two days. The city was larger than he’d anticipated, but he didn’t have time to wander; the ship captain was waiting for them as soon as they reached the harbor.

“Whose idea was it to get onto a ship again? Was it yours, Offworlder?” Varric asked.

“You’d have complained if we traveled by land to Val Royeaux, Varric,” Cassandra shot back.

“I have to complain, or else you’d all forget I’m here and step on me,” the dwarf joked. Evelyn rolled her eyes and pushed past Erik onto the gangway. They’d left their horses with a platoon of Inquisition soldiers that had been sent to the city, informing them that they’d return in a little over a week. Erik followed the Herald onto the ship, finding her in the cabin they’d all be sharing.

“First time on a ship?” he asked as he eyed Evelyn staring nervously at the wood grain on the deck.

“I traveled on one to get to the Conclave,” she replied with a shake of her head, “I’m just nervous about Val Royeaux.”

“You’d be insane if you weren’t,” he admitted, sitting down next to her, “But you’ll be fine. Trust me.”

She didn’t respond, merely tapping her staff aimlessly against her foot. After a few minutes they felt the ship lurch as they departed the harbor. Erik stood and offered Evelyn a hand.

“Come on. Let’s go topside.”

“What for?” she asked, cocking her head.

“Fresh air. The sea is pretty. Maybe we’ll get to see dolphins once we get away from Jader. Take your pick,” he offered. She shrugged and grabbed his hand, leaving her staff and bag behind by her bed. They climbed the stairs and were hit by the salty sea air.

Erik forgot how much he liked the ocean. If his world’s ships weren’t giant hulking monstrosities with no room to move around in, he would have joined the Navy. Instead, he joined the Army army and let them destroy his body. His left knee was a testament to that, the moist ocean breeze causing his knee to ache just a bit.

They walked towards the bow of the ship, where Cassandra watched the waves break against the hull in silence.

“Herald. Champion,” she greeted them with a nod.

“You don’t have to call us that, Cassandra,” Evelyn sighed, “We’re just people.”

“People doing the Maker’s work, whether you believe you were sent by His hand or not,” she said absentmindedly, “Using your titles is a sign of respect.”

“And it’s one that isn’t necessary here,” Erik argued gently, “It’s just us here. Just friends.”

Cassandra thought for a moment before nodding. “Very well.”

“Is there going to be free time in Val Royeaux?” Erik asked.

“I haven’t a clue,” the Seeker responded, “Why?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never been, obviously. I’d like to wander a bit.”

“As would I,” Evelyn agreed, “I’ve heard the city is beautiful.”

“Much of it is,” Cassandra agreed, “But much of it is just a facade. The Game is everywhere, in every parlor and every home. We will need to watch ourselves while we are in the city.”

“I’m not disagreeing, I just want to wander,” Erik explained, “I’ve never been in a city like Val Royeaux before.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “You did not have cities?”

“We did, but ours were far different.”

“How so?” Evelyn asked. Erik thought for a moment.

“How big is Val Royeaux, in terms of population?”

Cassandra thought for a moment. “Three hundred thousand, perhaps, including the Alienage and surface dwarves. It is the second largest city in the world behind Minrathous.”

“The largest city in my country had nearly ten million people,” Erik explained matter-of-factly, “If you included the metropolitan area, the area surrounding the city and relies on it, that number goes up to twenty million.”

Their faces were priceless. Evelyn’s eyes were wide with shock, while Cassandra’s jaw had dropped open.

“How is that even possible?” Evelyn asked.

“We have far more advanced technology than you do here. Our buildings can be thousands of feet tall. It’s just a lot of people packed into a city, really. Our cities are mostly grey stone and glass. They’re polluted, full of people, and I’m not a fan of them. Val Royeaux will be a new experience for me.”

“If your cities house that many people… how big was your country?” Cassandra asked.

“America had a population of about 340 million. The world population was 7.5 billion, last I checked.”

“Wouldn’t that be too many?” He was inwardly surprised at the Seeker’s perceptiveness, though he supposed it did come with her job.

“It is. We’re nearing something called _carrying capacity_. It’s the maximum number of people our world can hold. Because we can cure pretty much every disease that used to kill us, among other factors, people are living longer and having more babies on Earth. It’s destroying our world.”

“How?” Evelyn asked.

“A lot of our machines emit poisonous gas as a byproduct. It’s polluting the world. We’re cutting down our forests to make way for more roads. It’s… kind of depressing, to be honest. Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s just leave it at ‘Erik is excited to see Val Royeaux’.”

They lapsed into silence once more and stared into the Waking Sea for nearly an hour. Then his eyes shot open and he felt like a child again.

“Look! Dolphins!”

The trip was relatively peaceful. Erik's ability to read and write Common had improved tremendously, though he was nowhere near fluent. He and Cassandra sparred for most of each day, with Evelyn stepping in occasionally to help him learn to fight mages. His arms and core were sore, no doubt, but he felt like he was accomplishing something, and that was enough for him. As much as he was adjusting, there were still so many things that were alien to him. He wasn’t sure if he would ever completely adjust to his new life.

After the third day at sea, he sat shirtless on the deck and gazed up at the stars, enjoying the sea spray and salty air, even if it made his left knee ache just a tad. None of the stars were familiar, he'd realized. Two moons hung in the sky, each one bigger than the one on Earth. The larger was currently a crescent and the smaller was half full, though the larger one still had to be ten times as large as Earth's moon, making the nights much brighter than on his homeworld. He sighed sorrowfully as he stared at the glowing night sky filled with more stars than he'd ever seen on Earth. No light pollution would do that, Erik supposed.

“Are you all right?” he heard Evelyn ask as she approached and sat next to him.

“I suppose so. I’m just thinking.”

“Care to share?” she asked. He thought about what to say. What could he say? She had almost no context. Sure, her life had changed significantly, but he was literally displaced from his entire world. Erik shrugged slightly.

“I can’t recognize any of the stars here. It's depressing. Plus Thedas has two moons. I only had one. It’s the little things that are making me feel lost.” Evelyn was silent for a minute before pointing up at the sky.

“We call that one the Sword of Mercy. It usually represents mercy and justice, and it’s where the Templars get their symbol.” Erik nodded. He could see how it was a sword.

“That one’s The Oak. Depending on who you ask, it’s associated with nature or the elves.”

She went on like this for nearly ten minutes as he sat in silence and let her explain each of the constellations. He'd always loved the stars. He’d wanted to study astronomy and physics when he left the army, though that was impossible now, and it was still hard to accept. But knowing the constellations here made him feel a bit more comfortable. He wondered if the stars were just jewels in a firmament here or full suns, like in his universe. The laws of physics were already different enough to support magic, so why wouldn't the archaic model of the universe exist here, too?

Erik noticed she hadn’t said anything for several minutes. He glanced to his left to find her studying his sleeve with curiosity.

“I’ve never seen tattoos like this,” she muttered as she looked at the inking on his arm.

“I’d be surprised if you had,” he admitted, “Tattoos are pretty common in my military, though not always this intricate.”

“What do they mean?” she asked.

He pointed to his shoulder. “This is the Valknut. It’s the symbol of Odin, the ancient gods of my parents’ country before they emigrated to America. Around it are the runes of the other gods. The rest is traditional Norse tattoos, all referencing something in that mythology. It was a way to stay connected with my family when I was at war.”

“And now?”

He thought about the poignant question for a moment. “Now it’s a reminder of where I came from, I suppose. It helps keep me grounded.” Evelyn seemed to accept that answer, growing silent once more, drawing her knees to her chest and gazing up at the stars.

The next morning they arrived in Val Royeaux. Erik woke an hour before they made port and gathered his belongings, meeting the rest of the party on the top deck. Cassandra was thanking the captain, informing her that they’d be back in three days for the return trip. Then they disembarked and he mentally prepared for the clusterfuck that was about to happen.

“Andraste’s ass, that was horrible,” Varric sighed as they disembarked.

“It would not have been so terrible an experience if you had spent more time on deck,” Solas responded. Erik had avoided Solas as much as he could due to his knowledge of the elf’s true identity. If he ever let it slip that he knew the seemingly humble elf was really Fen’Harel, there’s no telling what the consequences were. So he decided the best course of action was to avoid him completely.

“And risk getting shit on by a bird? No thanks,” Varric laughed. They walked onward and toward the gates of Val Royeaux.

Erik wasn’t even through the front gates and he was awestruck. Marble statues and rails dotted the walkway, and opulent he could see a gilded rooftop in the distance, surrounded by vibrant hues of painstakingly painted buildings. It was like something out of a storybook, and for the first time he was glad he was in Thedas. The city was surprisingly clean so far, but he doubted the entire city held this beautiful visage.

Bells rung in the distance, somber and emotional.

“The city still mourns,” Cassandra realized sadly. Her face was sorrowful but determined as they strode toward the gates of the city. A masked couple saw them, or Evelyn, more specifically, and gasped in shock and fear before scurrying away. Evelyn blinked in surprise and confusion at the fleeing couple.

“Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are,” Varric murmured.

Cassandra grunted. “Your skills of observation never fail to impress me Varric.”

A scout ran up to them from the gates, saluting as they approached.

“My Lady Herald. My lord Champion,” the scout greeted with a bowed head.

“You’re one of Leliana’s people. What have you found?” Cassandra asked.

“The Chantry mothers await you, but so do a great many Templars.”

“Told you,” Erik said, no bragging in his voice.

“So you did,” Cassandra sighed, “You have not been wrong, yet.”

“People seem to think the Templars will protect them from… from the Inquisition. They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the Templars intend to meet you,” the scout continued.

“Let’s go, then. We have a meeting to attend,” Evelyn decided, glancing at Erik nervously.

They entered the city, several statues of lions and dragons lining the street, each representing a battle or ruler of the Masked Empire. Erik was pleased that he could make out the common letters engraved in each of the plaques as they passed.

“They wish to protect the people? From us?” Cassandra asked as she shook her head in shock.

“We knew they would be here, thanks to Erik,” Evleyn pointed out.

“But I didn’t expect the Templars to try and _defend_ the people from us,” Cassandra sighed.

“The people may just be assuming what the Templars will do,” the scout explained, “I’ve heard of no concrete plans.”

“Do you think the Order’s returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?” Varric asked to the party.

“No. They aren’t here to protect Val Royeaux,” Erik said, dreading the next twenty minutes. 

“I know Lord Seeker Lucius,” Cassandra agreed “I can’t imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense, not after all that’s occurred.”

“This just means we have a larger audience to convince,” Evelyn noted. Erik turned to the scout.

“Send a message to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are… delayed,” he ordered.

“As you say, my lord,” the scout saluted and ran off.

What can we expect?” Cassandra asked Erik.

“Grandstanding from the Templars and Chantry Mothers, a fearful crowd, and the people of Val Royeaux losing some of their faith in the Templar Order,” Erik murmured back.

“No violence?”

“Not directed at us, no.” Cassandra sighed.

“I must say traveling with you has been extremely unnerving,” she admitted.

“And I must say that living in a world I originally thought was fictional has been extremely unnerving,” he smiled, “I’ve been here for a month and it already feels like a year.”

“Quit your bantering,” Evelyn called from a ways ahead of them, “We have Templars to greet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from The Gift of Guilt by Gojira - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrfr9t6FuTU
> 
> One of Erik's parents is Norwegian, the other is Swedish, which is why he has Nordic tattoos.
> 
> Bioware/EA owns all dialogue from the game. The rest is mine.


	9. The Evil That Men Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn confronts the Templars and Revered Mothers and meets Enchanter Vivienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next couple chapters will be in Val Royeaux.

Evelyn had to admit, Val Royeaux was impressive. The marble facades and gilded cathedral rooftops were beautiful, and every noble she saw on their way to the market square where they’d heard the crowd had gathered wore more finery than any noble she’d ever seen. She knew there had to be a dark underbelly to the city, as well. Every major settlement had one. The Orlesians were just very good at hiding theirs. The mage wanted to explore the city with Erik, truth be told, but she pushed her own wants out of her mind for the time being. They had a job to do. She ignored the unsavory things said about herself, Erik, and the Inquisition as they passed through the crowded streets and toward the group of Chantry mothers standing on a raised platform at the far end of the market. As they approached, the Chantry Mother at the center of the dais noticed them and gestured for silence, which she received almost immediately.

“Here we go,” Erik murmured.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” the Revered Mother began, “Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderers. Well, wonder no more. Behold, the so-called Herald and Champion of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say these two are false prophets! The Maker would send no mage and supposed offworlder in our hour of need!”

“I’m letting you do most of the talking on this one. I just hit things, to be honest,” Erik murmured in her ear. Evelyn rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.

“You say we are the enemy. The Breach in the sky is our true enemy. We must unite to stop it,” she called out through the crowd.

“It’s true!” Cassandra said with a raised voice, “The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!”

“It is already too late,” Mother Hevara sneered as she gestured to her left. A group of men in shining steel armor with flaming swords on their breastplates marched toward the dais, led by a man with long, greying hair and a burning eye on his armor, much like Cassandra’s.

“The Templars have returned to the Chantry,” Mother Hevara declared over the murmurs of the crowd, “They will face this “Inquisition,” and the people will be safe once more!”

The man with Seeker armor nodded to one of his compatriots, who swung at the Mother, striking her in her face and knocking her to the ground with a gasp of shock from the crowd. Evelyn froze and remembered Erik’s prediction. 

“Is this what you meant by ‘loss of faith in the Templars’?” she whispered. He gave a slight nod back, watching a younger Templar with dark skin as he clearly struggled morally with the act his brethren had just conducte. The Seeker placed a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Steel yourself. She is beneath us.” The young man still looked unsure but continued on with his compatriots.

“Was that display supposed to impress us?” Erik called with venom, crossing his arms in defiance.

“On the contrary. It wasn’t for you at all,” The Templars’ leader responded.

Cassandra clearly recognized the man, because she approached him. “Lord Seeker Lucius, it’s imperative that we speak with—”

“You will _not_ address me,” Lucius snapped to the Right Hand. He gestured for the Templars to follow him.

Cassandra seemed shocked beyond comprehension. “Lord Seeker?”

The Lord Seeker turned back to her. “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet and chosen warrior. You should be ashamed. You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is _mine_.”

Evelyn froze. Something was… _off_ with the Lord Seeker. Not enough for anyone to notice, but her connection to the Fade allowed her to feel it. It was as if he had been dipped in a very thin layer of tar, sticky and wrong. The feeling was extremely faint, and gone as soon as she blinked.

“Templars,” she called, “One of your own commands the Inquisition’s forces. Join us, as he did!”

Lucius scoffed. “A staunch and loyal member of the Order. _So_ loyal, he abandoned them for a false Herald and Champion.”

The young, unsure Templar from before approached Lucius. “But Lord Seeker… what if they really were sent by the Maker? What if—?”

Another Templar with long brown hair and acne scars on his cheeks grabbed the young man’s shoulders, turning the younger Templar toward him. “You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!”

“ _I_ will make the Templar order a power that stands alone against the Void,” Lucius declared arrogantly, “ _We_ deserve recognition. Independence! You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition… less than nothing. Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

The Templars followed the Lord Seeker as they marched out of the city, greeted by the stunned silence of the Orlesian crowd. Evelyn felt the oily black feeling for another brief moment before the Lord Seeker vanished from her view.

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Varric sighed.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad!?” Cassandra exclaimed in a shocked tone

“Do you know him very well?” Evelyn asked, glancing quickly at Erik, who wore a conflicted expression.

Cassandra shook her head in bewilderment. “He took over the Seekers of Truth a year and a half ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert’s death. He was always a decent man, never given to grandstanding. This is... very bizarre.” She turned to Erik.

“Do you know anything about that?” Erik bit his lip and looked around briefly.

“I do, but it isn't safe to talk in the city,” he admitted in a hushed tone, his head bowed slightly, “I’ll explain when we return to Haven. There’s nothing that can be done about it now.”

Cassandra clearly did not like it, but she accepted his decision with a nod regardless.

“Do you think he can be reasoned with?” Evelyn asked Cassandra. Erik closed his eyes and sighed softly, earning an odd look from Cassandra. 

“I hope so,” she muttered, “If not him, there are surely others in the Order who don’t feel as he does. Either way, we should inform the others upon our return to Haven.”

“There are,” Erik confirmed, “That younger Templar that looked unsure about what was happening? Delrin Barris. From what I remember, he’s a very good man caught in a very chaotic situation.”

Evelyn nodded, deciding they could discuss it further when they returned to Haven. She eyed the stricken Chantry Mother and climbed the raised platform where the woman sat defeated, surrounded by several of her Chantry compatriots.

“Are you all right?” Evelyn asked.

The Chantry Mother ignored her, instead glancing at Cassandra. “This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra.”

“We came here seeking only to speak with the Mothers, Hevara,” the Seeker explained, “This is not our doing, but yours.”

Mother Hevara scoffed. “And you had no part in forcing our hand? Do not delude yourself. Now we have been shown up by our own Templars, in front of the entire city. And my fellow clerics have scattered to the wind, along with their convictions,” she turned toward Evelyn and Erik, “Just tell me one thing: do you believe you two are the Maker’s chosen?”

Evelyn sighed. “I don’t know if the Maker chose us or not. What I _do_ know is that I’m someone who can help close the Breach, and Erik has protected more innocent people than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

She blinked in surprise. “That is…more comforting than you might imagine. I suppose it is out of our hands now. We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come.”

Evelyn knelt, holding a hand out toward the Chantry Mother’s bruising cheek. Soothing healing magic washed over the Mother, and she sighed in relief before standing and nodding her thanks. Evelyn didn’t respond, merely turning and following Erik and the rest of the party as they walked through the market.

“I have an estate in the city,” Cassandra told them as they walked, “It is next to the Grand Cathedral. Impossible to miss. We will stay there during our time in the city.” 

“If it is alright, I’d light to peruse the market for a bit,” Solas offered, “There are several alchemical ingredients here that would greatly aid us in the field.”

“Feel free,” Evelyn said, “Just find us when you’re done.” Solas nodded and wandered off to one of the carts.

Soon after Solas meandered into the crowd, a messenger in mages’ robes approached them.

“Excuse me, madame. Are you the one they call the Herald of Andraste?” he asked.

She nodded. “I am. Can I help you?” The man handed her a letter sealed with blue wax.

“I have an invitation for you, from Madame de Fer, First Enchanter to the Montsimmard Circle.” He stiffly turned and retreated into the crowd as she opened the letter and read its contents.

_You are cordially invited to attend my salon held tonight at the chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain._

_Yours,_

_Vivienne de Fer_

_First Enchanter of Montsimmard_

_Enchanter to the Imperial Court_

Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “Just like you said, Erik. It’s an invitation from First Enchanter Vivienne. She wants to meet tonight at Duke de Ghislain’s estate.”

“You go. I’m not going anywhere near that estate. You’ll be fine there, I just don’t want to go anywhere near Vivienne if I don’t have to. I’ll take care of Sera,” he said as he crossed his arms. Evelyn looked at him curiously.

“Who’s Sera?” she asked. He gave a look of realization and walked fifteen paces away from them, as if he were anticipating something. Then an arrow landed on the ground next to his feet. She nearly jumped and prepared for combat, but Erik didn’t seem fazed at all. 

“That was Sera,” he replied, as if his simple words explained everything. The offworlder simply picked the arrow up and pulled off a slip of parchment, reading its contents in silence.

“Thank god I decided to learn Common script so quickly,” he murmured before glancing around, “We’ll catch up with the rest of you tonight. Come on, Varric. We have a Red Jenny to find.”

“Red Jenny? I knew this trip would get interesting!” he laughed as he followed the man.

Evelyn watched the two men walk away and toward a cafe, baffled once more by Erik’s knowledge. She shook her head and turned back toward Cassandra.

“I suppose I have a salon to attend. We’d better get to your estate if I want to make it on time.”

It took her all of three hours to prepare for the salon, and another two to reach the de Ghislain chateau. She arrived just after nightfall, introducing herself to the party’s herald as she walked through the foyer.

“Lady Evelyn Trevelyan, on behalf of the Inquisition,” he announced as she passed. I cringed internally at her title. She hadn’t used it in nearly two decades, and every time someone in the Circle had discovered her noble heritage it had caused her trouble. She hadn’t thought of herself as nobility in fifteen years, come to think of it.

A group of Orlesians quickly swarmed her.

“What a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” a noble in a golden mask greeted, “Seeing the same faces at every event becomes _so_ tiresome.”

“I know how you feel,” she lied, “Gatherings in Ostwick are rather… insular for my tastes.”

He laughed in agreement. “So you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?”

“Are you here on business? I have heard the most curious tales of you and your compatriot… you as the Herald and he as the Champion of Andraste? I cannot imagine half of the stories are true,” a noblewoman in a large, pleated collar rattled off.

“Oh? What have you heard?” she asked curiously.

“Some say that when the Veil opened, Andraste herself delivered you two from the Fade!”

She thought for a moment, deciding to mix the truth with some embellishment. It couldn’t hurt to have Orlesian nobles on their side, even if she was playing up her ‘chosen’ shtick. “I can’t say I would recognize Andraste if it really _was_ her. I don’t remember much about my deliverance from the Fade. But whoever did deliver us… Erik Andersen, the man who has been named Andraste’s Champion, said she was radiant. Holy, even.”

The woman smiled behind her mask. “Better and better! The Inquisition should attend more of these parties!”

“The Inquisition. What a load of pig shit,” an man called arrogantly as he slowly approached, “Washed up Sisters and crazed Seekers. No one can take them seriously! Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

Evelyn raised my eyebrow and crossed her arms in defiance. “You should tell that to our leaders. Or have _you_ fought an Archdemon with the Hero of Ferelden? Saved the Divine from an assassination? Walked physically in the Fade, as the Champion of Andraste and I have?”

“Those are hardly accomplishments,” the man laughed nervously, “We know what your ‘Inquisition’ _truly_ is. If you were truly a woman of honor, you would step outside and answer the charges.”

He reached for the rapier on his back, but she felt the familiar flow of magic and the man literally froze in place. A tall woman with smooth, dark skin wearing a half mask and a horned headpiece slowly descended the stairs behind him. Vivienne de Fer, she realized.

“My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in _my_ house to _my_ guests,” she spoke in a velvety voice full of disdain, “You know such rudeness is… intolerable.”

“Ah!- Madame Vivienne! I- I humbly beg your pardon,” the Marquis stuttered.

“You should,” she approached the man and circled around to face him, gripping his jaw between her fingers, “Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?”

She turned to me. “My lady, you’re the wounded party in this affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

She stood silently for a moment, pondering my options. She would have taken his offer to fight. She honestly wanted to freeze him herself. But that would probably make the Inquisition look bad.

“To be honest, I’m not sure what the custom is here,” she admitted, “Whatever you think is best. I won’t argue.”

She smiled wickedly and turned to the Marquis, cupping his face once more. “And this, my dear, is why one should always be courteous to one’s fellow guests.” She closed her fist, and Evelyn heard every bone in his body crack at once. The Marquis crumpled to the ground, and a pair of servants dragged his body away.

“His life was forfeit the moment he reached for his blade,” Vivienne explained to the shocked Marcher, “But enough about that fool. I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering. I’ve _so_ wanted to meet you.” She turned and walked away, motioning for Evelyn to follow.

She followed the First Enchanter up the stairs to an open window. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard, and Enchantress to the Imperial Court.”

She gave a slight bow and smiled. “Charmed, Lady Vivienne.”

“Ah, but I didn’t invite you to the Chateau for pleasantries, sadly,” she explained, “With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles, but the faithful flock to _your_ banner, pinning their hopes on you and the Champion of Andraste to deliver them from chaos. As the leader of the last _loyal_ Mages in Thedas, I find it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

Evelyn bit her tongue at the ‘loyal mages’ comment. She knew the rebellion wasn’t perfect, but wasn’t freedom and the understanding of the people better than the fear of the common folk as they sat in a cage? It was clear that Vivienne had experienced few hardships in the Circle, if any at all. The woman clearly turned a blind eye to the suffering of her fellow mages scattered across the harsher Circles in Thedas. 

She knew all about the First Enchanter of Montsimmard. The woman was the mistress of Bastien de Ghislain, one of the most powerful people in the Orlesian Empire. She had clawed her way to the top without heed for her fellow mages, only to turn around and decide that mages did indeed need to be locked away for their own good. Her desire to join the Inquisition certainly wasn’t out of the goodness of her own heart, either; she was clearly only in it for the power. She knew that already, from what Erik had told them in Haven. But her assistance and connections would be invaluable, and they needed all the allies we could get.

Evelyn smiled graciously despite her already growing disdain for Vivienne. “The Inquisition would be more than happy to have you, Lady Vivienne.”

“Great things are beginning my dear. I can promise you that.”

She spent a few more hours at the chateau, making nice to Vivienne and gaining support from a handful of nobles who promised to contact Josephine as soon as possible. She could see why Erik didn’t want to attend. The place was filled to the brim with pompous nobles who only threw their support in with the Inquisition to increase their own standing in their little ‘Game’. From the little Evelyn remembered of the politics in Ostwick, the nobles in the Free Marches were no different, just less subtle in their machinations and backstabbing. 

Vivienne was no different. She was a snake that dressed well. Every word said to her was dissected and probed for its meaning before a response was delivered from the woman’s silver tongue. She dodged every question about the fall of the Circles Vivienne had thrown at her, knowing her position would irritate Madame de Fer. Still, she had ingratiated herself to the First Enchanter when Vivienne learned that Evelyn was the protegee of her friend Senior Enchanter Lydia, who had been killed when Ostwick’s Circle fell. As much as Evelyn and her mentor had disagreed on Circle politics and mage freedom, she still looked up to the knowledgeable Senior Enchanter and was terribly affected by her death. 

Satisfied with her excursion to the salon, she bid her farewells and returned to Cassandra’s estate. As soon as she entered, she was met by Erik and Varric, both of whom had faint streaks of blood on their faces as they sat at the dinner table drinking their own bottles of mead. She stared at them in open surprise and shock.

“You’re back! How did it go?” Erik asked jovially when they noticed Evelyn’s presence.

“Well, thank you,” she managed to say through her surprise, “Vivienne has joined the Inquisition, and I gained support from a handful of noble houses over the course of the night.”

“That’s good,” Varric rasped, “We need all the support we can get.” Evelyn studied them a bit more closely. Both of them were looking a bit exhausted as they drank.

“It looks like you had a more interesting night than I did, honestly,” she admitted as she sat across from Erik and accepted the offered bottle of mead.

“Oh, you have _no idea_ ,” Erik laughed, “Let me tell you about it…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is taken from The Evil That Men Do by Iron Maiden - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6JpxDebokM
> 
> I hate Vivienne. She's such an incredibly written character,one of the most well-written in Inquisition, but she's a snake.
> 
> As always, dialogue from the game belong to Bioware & EA. Everything else is mine.


	10. Rebel Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik recruits Sera and goes shopping with Evelyn.
> 
> All in-game dialogue is owned by Bioware/EA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More antics in Val Royeaux. Next chapter will be where we start getting into a bit more canon divergence, though not too huge.

Erik reread the message as he and Varric walked through the market.

_People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone._

_There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords._

_Friends of Red Jenny_

A poor drawing of the locations in the market was attached, along with a picture of him stabbing some guy in a mask.

“So tell me, what exactly are we looking for again?” Varric asked as they wandered the market.

“Just look for anything red and not attached to a surface,” Erik reminded the dwarf. They’d already found the clue in the cafe, and had a fantastic meal there while they were at it.

They traipsed around the market, finding the second of the three missives easily. The market was significantly bigger than he remembered (whik Erik fully expected at this point) but the layout was essentially the same, and they moved through the area without trouble.

By the time they found the final handkerchief and attached missive, Erik had pieced together what Sera was telling them, mentally kicking himself that he didn’t remember.

“We’re being followed,” he murmured to his dwarven friend. Varric, for his credit, elicited no reaction and kept walking alongside the former soldier.

“Should we take care of them now?” Varric murmured back. Erik shook his head.

“No, we’ve been told a location in the city. Apparently the guy who hired our stalkers will be there, about three hours after midnight. Should we go now?”

Varric chewed his lower lip in thought. “Better we go now. Val Royeaux is a big city, and it’s almost sunset already. If we get lost we’ll still have enough time for this little rendezvous,” the Kirkwall native explained. Erik nodded and showed him the notes, and they were off.

Varric’s instincts were right. While there were certainly less people in the city than any of the major American settlements, Val Royeaux was still sprawling, and neither had been to the Orlesian capital. The duo found themselves lost three times, losing about an hour with each wrong turn. Thankfully, Erik thought, they were attacked only once along the way, and between the two of them, their assailants were quickly dispatched. Finally, with what Erik estimated to be less than ten minutes before their prescribed meeting time, they found a massive pair of blue double doors that Erik immediately recognized. They pushed through the blue doorway and were immediately greeted with a fireball shot from a masked noble. Erik instinctively jumped to his right as the flames sailed down the alleyway.

“Champion of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably,” the noble asked arrogantly.

“It cost me nothing at all, actually,” Erik drawled, preparing to draw his weapons, “I was _literally_ wandering the city and happened to stumble on you. I don’t even know who you are.”

“You don’t fool me! I’m too important for this to be an accident; my efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere,” his diabolical monologue was cut short by the sound of a man screaming as an arrow pierced his chest. A lithe but surprisingly tall elf with choppy blonde hair appeared behind him. She drew another arrow.

“Just say ‘what’,” she declared.

“What is the--” she released her arrow, and it pierced his throat as he fell to the ground.

“Well, you did say ‘just say what’,” Erik pointed out with a satisfied smirk.

“Exactly. Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. ‘Blah, blah blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face’,” she explained, pulling her arrow from the dead man. Erik had always liked Sera. She was a breath of fresh air in the games, someone who didn’t mind fucking with people just for the sake of fucking with people. Getting a good look at the elf now, though, there was something else. She looked exactly like her in-game counterpart- everyone he’d met so far had- but there was something else to the young woman: she was full of _life_. She was happy, so much so that it was infectious enough for Erik to immediately want to befriend her. He wasn’t sure how she would react to the truth of his origins, but he was certain he’d found another drinking buddy regardless.

“So, you followed the notes well enough,” she continued, “Glad to see you’re… you’re kind of plain, really. All that talk and you’re just… a person. Is the other one normal, too?”

“Evelyn? Normal as can be when you have a mark that can open and close the Veil. She and I split up tonight to cover more ground.”

“So you’re the Champion, then. Confused me there for a second. Heard the Herald was a ‘she’. Thought my Friends got it wrong for a second.”

“Nah, Evelyn’s the Herald, I just smack things until they stop breathing,” Erik brushed off, “So, can you tell me who the hell this ass was?”

She shrugged. “No idea. I don’t know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him.”

“Your people? The Friends of Red Jenny?”

“Yep! People people. Name’s Sera. This is cover. Get ‘round it,” Sera gestured to a stack of boxes, “For the reinforcements. Don’t worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches!”

Erik laughed and got behind the boxes, raising his swords in preparation as Varric loaded Bianca and Sera nocked another arrow.

The reinforcements arrived, and between the three of them they were swiftly handled.

“Wow. Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!” she cackled, “So… Champion of Andraste. You’re a strange one. I’d like to join.”

Erik didn’t have to think twice. He knew he’d probably get flak from Cassandra once Sera started her hijinks, but Erik didn’t care. Between Sera’s skill, personality, and connections with her Friends, saying no was an absolutely bone-headed decision. “Okay.”

Sera blinked. “What, just like that? You don’t wanna, I dunno, ask about what I can provide or anything?”

“Nope,” Erik shook his head, “I know how invaluable the support of the little people is, and with the Friends of Red Jenny with us, we’ll be able to help each other. As for you, I’ve already seen you in a fight, and you’re fun. I’d be stupid if I said no.”

“Yes! Get in good before you’re too big to like. That’ll keep your breeches where they should be. Plus, extra breeches because I have all these,” she gestured to the pile of trousers in the corner, “You have merchants that buy that piss, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway, Haven. See you there, Champion.”

“It’s just Erik, Sera. ‘Champion’ makes me seem better than everyone. I’m not.”

“Good,” Sera nodded her approval, “Head like that on your shoulders and you’ll stay grounded. See ya in Haven, Erik.” She slipped into the night without another word as Erik turned to Varric.

“Let’s get back. I’m fucking tired,” he said, finding the Grand Cathedral in the distance and following its towers.

Thanks to the Grand Cathedral’s size, the return trip was far faster than the trip to the meeting with Sera. They found Cassandra’s Estate an hour after they recruited Sera, walking through the front door in exhausted silence. Cassandra sat at her dining table nursing a glass of mead. Her eyes shot up as soon as she heard the front door creak open.

“Well? How did it go?” she asked without preamble.

“Got lost a couple times, killed some people, recruited an extremely skilled archer named Sera that has contacts in a spy network,” Erik quickly rattled off.

Cassandra shifted forward in her seat. “Spy network?”

“They’re called the Friends of Red Jenny,” Varric explained, “We had a cell back in Kirkwall. Kind of chaotic, but they do a lot of good work for little people being abused by nobility. Having them on our side will help us keep an ear to the ground with the common folk.”

Cassandra nodded approval as they sat down and poured each of them a glass. “Good. As much as we need the support of the nobility, losing support of the commoners will spell the death of the Inquisition.”

“That was my reasoning,” Erik explained, deliberately omitting Sera’s inevitable antics. He glanced around the estate. It was luxurious, though largely bare, clearly having not seen much use in the past several years. It made sense, Erik reasoned. Cassandra was always out doing the Divine’s work, both with Beatrix and Justinia. A small fire crackled in the hearth, staving off the worst of the cold air outside.

“Is Evelyn back yet?” Erik asked, taking a long drink from his glass. Cassandra shook her head.

“No, but she should be back any minute. I imagine the salon ended not long ago. I was actually awaiting her return before the two of you made your way back here.”

“Go get some rest, Cassandra,” Erik offered, “We’ll stay up and wait for Ev.”

“We will?” Varric asked. Erik gave the dwarf a wilting glare, and the writer quickly changed his tune, “I mean, of course we will.”

Cassandra nodded and finished her glass. “The bedrooms are upstairs in the left-hand hall. Mine is at the end. Wake me if she is not back in an hour.” With that, the Right Hand made her way up the stairs and out of sight.

Varric and Erik sat and drank in relative silence for the next thirty minutes as Erik lost himself in thought. All in all, he’d had a good day, he decided. He still missed his homeworld and doubted he would ever truly get over the loss, but it was getting easier with every passing day. He’d made friends, found a place in the world, and hadn’t caused any disastrous deviations that would lead to the end of Thedas yet.

Still, he was lonely. He was twenty-eight years old and had spent most of his prime hunting terrorists in the worst areas in the world. He’d been shot four times, blown up twice, had broken his foot during SFAS and ignored it, and he was certain a doctor would tell him his joints were reminiscent of someone ten or twelve years older than him. He was ready to settle down and plant roots, to be honest. His job, however, had prevented that. Most people couldn’t relate to what he’d been through on a personal level, and those that could were just as fucked up as he was. No, friendships were difficult, and romantic involvement was another thing entirely. Erik had found himself in a serious relationship exactly once in his entire 20s, and he’d come home from a deployment to Niger to find she'd been sleeping with his neighbor. Erik had stuck to casual flings after that. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind as it began to cloud with the familiar feeling of alcohol.

Erik’s mind drifted involuntarily to Leliana. She was probably as lonely as him, if not more; he couldn’t imagine running Thedas’s largest spy network warranted having many close friends. Sure, she had Cassandra and Josephine, but the former was always training and the latter was always knee-deep in negotiations. In fact, he hadn’t seen her speak to anyone outside of work aside from himself. It was sad, really. He should get her something while they were in Val-

The door opened with a creak and Evelyn walked in, pulling Erik from his thoughts as he turned to greet his friend.

“You’re back! How did it go?”

Erik woke the next morning to find the rest of the group already eating breakfast. Solas had apparently awoken early and cooked a hearty breakfast of eggs, bread, and a meat that suspiciously looked like bacon but that he was told was druffalo. He ate in silence, thinking about what he should do with his remaining time in Val Royeaux. Evelyn, however, quickly helped him make that decision.

“I’m planning on seeing the city today, Erik, if you’d like to join,” she offered as she finished her meal, “I was thinking about leaving in a few minutes.”

“Anything in particular you want to see?”

She shrugged. “Just the city in general, I suppose. Maybe visit a few shops. I wanted to see if I could find a new staff, to be honest.”

“Sure.” He swallowed his last bite of druffalo meat and took a hearty gulp of water, moving to follow his friend.

“Anyone else want to join?” he offered. Cassandra shook her head.

“There is business I must take care of as Right Hand, with Justinia gone,” she explained sorrowfully.

“I was planning on meditating and exploring the Fade,” Solas responded, “This city is old. There is much history to be learned here.”

“I’m not going on any Fade trips, but I have a meeting with my Orlesian publisher in a couple hours, so I’m not going to get lost with you two,” Varric shrugged.

“Looks like it’s just us, then,” Evelyn smiled as she cleaned her plate with her magic, taking Erik’s to do the same. He grabbed his weapons from where they sat near the hearth and strapped them to his waist, adjusting the scabbards slightly before turning back to the Marcher.

“Ready to go?”

They ended up wandering the city for several hours. Evelyn did indeed buy a new staff, a thin, translucent, light thing made of a material called serault infused glass and topped with an ornate carving of a star. The material was shockingly durable, even able to withstand direct blows from a silverite blade without any damage. She paid the merchant and they moved on through the markets.

“Any particular reason why you chose that?” Erik asked curiously.

Evelyn shrugged. “It might be the mark, but this material just feels… right. I can’t explain it better than that. Every mage just knows when they find a staff that speaks with them.”

Their next stop was a small weapon store, where Erik found a well-balanced longsword forged from an alloy of lazurite and pyrophite and enchanted with a demon-slaying rune. He bought it without question, paying a shockingly small twenty royals for the well-crafted weapon. As they moved on, he thought about what else he wanted to purchase.

He didn’t want to purchase anything like an instrument or anything else personal, at least until they’d made it to Skyhold. Corypheus’s assault on Haven meant that only the necessities would likely be taken; anything else would be a hindrance. Perhaps a few books to keep him occupied, but beyond that nothing substantial. So he and Evelyn walked into a bookshop, silently perusing the selections. Glancing at Evelyn, he noticed the Herald already had a book by Brother Genitivi on Theodosian myths and legends cradled in her arm. He, himself, grabbed a copy of _In Pursuit of Knowledge-_ which he figured was essential reading, especially in his situation- and continued perusing the various tomes. _A History of the First Blight_ , _Astronomical Movements and Signs_ , _Adventures of the Black Fox...._

Erik froze as he reached the end of one of the shelves. He recognized that style of writing. It shouldn’t have existed here, yet it did. He reached for the old, worn book with shaking hands and gingerly pulled it off the shelf, glancing at the front- no, wait, that was the back. He flipped the book over and read the cover. _Prayers for the Dead by Ashkaari Koslun_. Why this was in an Orlesian bookshop of all places was beyond him, but he didn’t care for the why. He cared about the language the book was written in.

The book was written in Arabic. Modern Standard Arabic had been his assigned language during the Q Course, and over the better part of a decade he’d become quite proficient in the language despite its difficulty to learn as a native English speaker. He’d read several Islamic Golden Age texts since then, and his Arabic copy of the _1001 Nights_ was one of his favorite books he’d owned. He honestly thought he’d never see the flowing Middle Eastern script again, but as he flipped through the relatively small prayer book, he found that he understood every single word.

“Erik? Is something wrong?” Evelyn asked to his right, glancing at the open book in his hands, “That’s Qunlat, isn’t it? I’ve only ever seen one other Qunari book when I was in the Circle, but I’d recognize that script anywhere. What’s it doing in an Orlesian bookstore?”

“I don’t know, but I can read it,” Erik whispered back. Her eyes went wide.

“Remember when I told you about how I was taught another language for my job?" he explained, "Arabic was the name of the language I was taught. In my world, this book would be in Arabic, not Qunlat.”

“So there’s yet another crossover between your world and this one,” she murmured, “You’re sure this is… Arabic, did you call it?”

“I know Arabic when I see it,” he responded firmly. Evelyn bit her lip and glanced up at him.

“What are you going to do?” she asked. Erik sighed and placed the old Qunari book under his arm with the copy of Genitivi’s work as he approached the storekeeper.

“How much for these two?” He asked, placing the books on the counter.

Forty crowns for the two books was a steal, if he was being honest with himself. The shopkeeper just seemed happy to get the Qunari book out of her store, so she only charged eight crowns for it, while _In Pursuit of Knowledge_ was on the slightly more expensive side. They wandered aimlessly through the market until Evelyn found a stall selling perfumes and drifted toward it. Erik stood next to her as she tried the different fragrances, and his eyes fell on a small bottle of light orange-colored perfume with a label that read ‘Andraste’s Grace’. At least that’s what he thought it said; his Common still wasn’t perfect. He picked it up and turned it in his hand.

“Who’s the girl?” Evelyn asked. He glanced up to find a smirk on the mage’s face. He flushed slightly and put the perfume back on the stall without responding to her query.

“It’s Leliana, isn’t it?” His ears were scorching hot. Maker, spending time with Evelyn really was what he imagined having a sister would be like.

“Who’s to say it was for anyone?” he asked defensively. Evelyn rolled her eyes.

“So it was for you, then? Don’t lie, Erik, I know it was for Leliana. Call it a woman’s intuition.”

He sighed and turned toward his friend. “Yeah, I was thinking about Leliana. Is there a problem with that?”

Evelyn smiled just a bit wider. “No, no problem. I just think it’s cute you’d consider getting something for her.”

Had he been considering purchasing it? He had no idea how Leliana would react to a gift of perfume. Would she enjoy it? Was it an implication that she smelled? He had absolutely no clue. Besides, if he was going to get the spymaster a gift, a pair of fine shoes would be more fitting. Although, there wasn’t really a place or time to wear fine shoes in a village like Haven…

Evelyn sighed. “Look, it’s pretty clear to me that you like the woman. She terrifies me, personally, but if you want to get her a gift, get her a gift. She seems pretty lonely, and I can’t think of any woman that would turn down a gift of perfume,” she grabbed the bottle and inhaled deeply, “Especially one with that scent. Good eye.”

“Lucky guess,” Erik lied with a shrug. He had to admit, Evelyn was right. As he mulled it over, he decided it was rather pointless to deny that he had a bit of a crush on the Inquisition’s spymaster. He let out a small laugh; it sounded like he was in elementary school when he thought of it as a crush.

But the more he thought, the more it felt like the right gift to get if he wanted to get the bard anything. A musical instrument would likely be lost in Haven’s fall, and shoes were impractical. No, something small made more sense. Plus, he already knew Leliana liked Andraste’s Grace, assuming his knowledge of the individuals he was working with held up. He sighed and laid out the listed pricing for the small bottle, hoping his gesture wouldn’t end up getting him stabbed in the middle of the night.

They returned to Cassandra’s estate after a few hours of aimless wandering and settled into silent reading. Erik pulled out the Qunari prayer book he’d purchased and began reading in silence, ignoring the grating feeling in the back of his head as he read clearly Qunari-influenced writings in a language that was so familiar to him.

“Is that a Qunari book?” A voice asked accusingly. He glanced up to find Cassandra, her arms crossed and a disapproving gaze on her face. Erik sighed and closed the book, marking his place with a finger.

“Remember when I told you all about my foreign language training? The one I was taught is called Arabic. Turns out, much like the English script is identical to Tevene, Arabic is identical to Qunlat. I don’t know if I would be able to understand spoken Qunlat, but I can sure as hell read it.”

“And you bought that tome for what reason?”

“Because I don’t want my language skills to get rusty, now that I know Arabic is Qunlat,” he pointed out, “Plus, we’ll have dealings with Qunari in the future. It wouldn’t be a hindrance if I spoke the language.”

“What kind of dealings?” she asked.

Erik thought about how to respond for a moment. “The kind you don’t have to worry about just yet.”

On their way to the harbor the next day, they were met by an elf in mage's robes. Her dark hair was cut short, and the few wrinkles on her face seemed to be from stress more than age. Erik immediately pegged her as Fiona.

“If I might have a moment of your time?” she asked hopefully in a slight Orlesian accent.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona?” Cassandra seemed shocked.

“Leader of the Mage Rebellion,” Solas added, “Is it not dangerous for you to be here?”

“I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald and Champion of Andraste with my own eyes,” Fiona explained, turning to Evelyn, “If it’s help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you should look to your fellow mages.”

“Does this mean the Mages are willing to help us?” Evelyn asked, glancing briefly toward Erik.

“We are willing to discuss it, at the very least. Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe. Come, meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. _Au revoir_ , my Lady Herald. My Lord Champion.” She turned to leave.

“Come. Let us return to Haven,” Cassandra suggested.

“We’re ‘fabled’?” Erik nudged Evelyn, earning a slight smirk from the woman.

Varric laughed. “We have a potential offer of help with the Breach, and _that’s_ what you got out of our encounter?”

“I knew either the Mages or Templars would break eventually. I _didn’t_ know Evelyn and I are ‘fabled’,” he joked as they climbed aboard the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Qunlat being Arabic. There's clear analogies to the Ottomans and Almoravids in the Qun's war against Tevinter. David Gaider once described the Qun as "militant Islamic Borg", and while there's no cultural comparisons we've been shown that could be drawn between the Qun and Islam, the analogy still holds some water: the Qunari are hyper-militant, want to assimilate everything not under the Qun (hence the Borg), went to war with the entirety of Thedas (much like the Ottoman Empire at war with Europe from the 14th-17th centuries) and are currently at war with Tevinter, which can be seen as the Thedas equivalent of Byzantium. The Islamic world was also, for a time, the most advanced society in the world, much like the Qunari's apparent advancements with science & technology. So making Qunari script Arabic made sense to me in the scope of this story. I'm still debating over whether spoken Qunlat will be Arabic, as well, but I'm keeping the script. I don't personally speak Arabic (I was assigned Russian during Language School), but the friend that Erik is based off of was assigned MSA and was very fluent in it.
> 
> Title is derived from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U16Xg_rQZkA
> 
> In regards to Erik not knowing what kind of gift to get a woman, I think it's a pretty much universal straight male thing. We have no idea what to do when it comes to approaching females. Ladies, help.


	11. Raise Your Horns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik hatches a plan, has a talk with Leliana, and meets Iron Bull

"It's good you've returned,” Josephine began without preamble as Erik, Evelyn and Cassandra entered the War Room, “We heard of your encounter."

Cassandra blinked. "You heard?"

“Of course,” Leliana said as she approached the table, “My agents in the city sent word ahead. It seems Erik’s predictions were once again correct."

"It's a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital," Cullen’s voice was filled with irritation and his face betrayed his anger at the Templar response.

"Well, at least we know how to approach the Mages and Templars now," Evelyn noted as she flexed her marked hand slightly. Erik frowned. Was it paining her constantly and she just never said anything? Or did it come in waves?

"Yes." Josephine stabbed her pen into the air, punctuating the statement. "And we have the opening we need to approach the Templars and the mages."

Cassandra shook her head. "Do we? Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember."

"True. He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been… very odd." Leliana frowned in thought before glancing knowingly at Erik. He broke her gaze and glanced back to Cullen.

"We must look into it. I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker," Cullen folded his arms and shifted his weight.

“They don’t,” Evelyn agreed, “One of the younger Templars was questioning his orders to abandon the city.”

Cullen’s eyes lit up. “Do you remember what he looked like, by chance?”

“Dark skin, short hair shaved on the sides, broad nose, light brown eyes. Why?”

“His name is Ser Barris,” Erik offered, “Know him?”

Cullen nodded, his face relaxing somewhat, “I’ve heard of him. He joined the Order about five years ago. I've heard he’s a good man, and he leads by example. If anyone in the Templar Order will listen to our plight, it’s him. We should try and contact him, if we can.”

"Or the Herald and Champion could simply go meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead,” Josephine suggested.

Cullen looked at her incredulously. "You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse."

“Fuck that. We’re not going to one or the other. We’re approaching both,” Erik said defiantly, leaning forward.

“Champion?” Leliana looked at him quizzically.

"We shouldn't discount Redcliffe. The mages will be worth the risk, and there’s some things happening in Redcliffe that you will all want taken care of." _Like a Tevinter Magister deposing the Arl,_ Erik thought to himself.

“And as Cullen has said, the Templars may be able to suppress the Breach. I wouldn’t want to bank on just one of the two groups, even if the story I know allowed for just one of the two groups to be present. The way I see things, our best bet for sealing it involves magic pumped into the mark and Templars suppressing the Breach itself. It’ll be far more likely to succeed.”

“We aren’t even sure the Templars will listen to us,” Josephine pointed out.

“We don’t need all the Templars. Just the best, of heart and will.”

"And the mages are powerful, but more desperate than you may realize," Cassandra argued.

“So it’ll be dangerous. I’ve been in constant danger ever since I walked out of the Fade,” Evelyn pointed out.

"If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave..." the Commander pointed out.

"The same could be said about the Templars," Josephine muttered, writing on her pad.

"True enough," Cullen admitted, and then sighed wearily, "Right now, I'm not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely."

"Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places," Cassandra looked towards Evelyn and Erik, "That's something you two can help with."

Erik took his shot. He’d thought about his insane plan the entire return trip from Val Royeaux, and now was the time to propose it.

“We don’t need more influence. We need to act,” Erik declared resolutely.

“What do you mean?” Cullen asked, quirking an eyebrow and resting a hand on the pommel of his sword.

“If we want the support of both groups, Evelyn and I cannot go together,” he explained, “There are two extremely horrible events that are about to occur at almost the exact same time. If the two of us go after one group together, the other will be lost.”

Josephine’s eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean? Whichever we don’t choose to seek aid from will be destroyed?”

“Worse. I can’t explain more than that without risking the safety of everyone in the Inquisition. This is one of the things where you’ll have to trust me,” Erik took a deep breath, “The Templars are being led to Therinfal Redoubt. They likely traveled by foot from Val Royeaux, so I doubt the majority are even there yet. We have some time to plan.”

“What do you propose?” Cassandra asked.

“Evelyn goes to meet the Mage Rebellion in Redcliffe. She’s a mage, and they’ll trust her more than they trust me. Plus, there are events there that will require Evelyn’s mark, both its abilities and its physical presence. She goes off to Redcliffe, assesses the situation there, and enlists the mages’ help with the Breach.

“Meanwhile, I’ll go to Therinfal Redoubt. I know how to use diplomacy, but I’m a soldier at heart and don’t know the intricacies of statesmanship. I’ll recruit as many Templars as I possibly can and return here, and we’ll use them both to close the Breach.”

“A diplomatic approach would be the wiser approach for Therinfal,” Cullen argued, “If you’re proposing what I think you are, it’ll be an assault on Therinfal Redoubt, and we don’t have the numbers for that yet.”

“I agree,” Leliana nodded, “Even with my scouts and agents, we will not have the numbers nor the time to muster a sizable force to siege Therinfal.”

“I never said anything about a siege,” Erik smiled, “I’m talking about a raid.”

“A raid? Similar to the Avvar?” Evelyn asked.

“Exactly. Go in, get what we need, kill anything in our way, and get out.”

“Is such a tactic necessary?” Josephine asked nervously, “Why not negotiate with the Lord Seeker for the entire Templar force instead?”

“Lord Seeker Lucius won’t listen to reason,” Erik sighed, “He’s starting to feed the Templars red lyrium.”

It became so silent in the war room a pin could drop and be heard. Cullen went visibly pale, Leliana steeled her face even further, Evelyn stared at Erik in open shock, Josephine startled slightly, and Cassandra’s jaw tightened.

“This is an extremely serious accusation, Champion,” Cassandra warned, “The Lord Seeker would never-”

“It isn’t Lucius, Cassandra,” Erik sighed, “The real Lucius is gone, and we shouldn’t try to find him yet. We don’t have the resources to. What we met in Val Royeaux was an envy demon.”

More silence followed Erik’s revelations, followed by Evelyn planting her face in her hands and groaning.

“I _did_ sense a demon in Val Royeaux,” she huffed, “I thought it was the mark messing with my senses.”

“How did this happen?” Cassandra demanded from Erik.

“That isn’t something I can discuss now due to potentially disastrous repercussions, and it’s something so outlandish that none of you would believe me, anyways. When we grow a bit, Cassandra, I strongly suggest looking for Lord Seeker Lucius,” he advised.

The Seeker’s jaw flexed once more and she closed her eyes in frustration. “This is very difficult for me, you realize. I will trust your judgement, but I will not give this up.”

“You shouldn’t give it up,” Erik agreed, “I know this is personal for you, and I appreciate your trust. I can imagine how difficult this is.”

“Back to your… plan,” Leliana spoke, “I assume you need resources from us for this endeavor?”

“I do, but listen to what I’m going to need before you accept my proposal. Once Evelyn goes to Redcliffe, Leliana, I’m going to need you to send agents and scouts to Therinfal and give me a rundown of the fortress. I don’t know its layout, and I need to know a rough estimate of how many Templars have been fed red lyrium so I know how many enemies I can expect.

“Cullen, I’ll need a company’s worth of your best soldiers. I don’t care whose command they fall under or what weapon they use. They’ll report to whatever officer you assign to the mission. No mages. I don’t want anyone getting purged and becoming a deadweight.”

“And what is your plan once you reach Therinfal?” Cullen asked stiffly.

“Our primary objective, once inside, would be to assassinate the envy demon impersonating Lucius, kill any Templars infected with red lyrium, and get the remaining uncorrupted ones to Haven,” he explained, “Secondary objectives would be gathering any intelligence on the Templars’ activities and to attempt a rescue of the Knight-Vigilant. From what I remember, if the Herald chose to go to Therinfal Redoubt, the Knight-Vigilant was already dead by the time she arrived. Hopefully I can change that.”

The advisors glanced at each other, almost looking like they were having a silent conversation, Erik thought. Finally, Leliana looked back at him and gave a slight nod.

“Very well. You’ll have my scouts,” she agreed.

“You’ll have a roster of soldiers by the end of the week,” Cullen responded curtly.

“Is there anything else?” Evelyn asked.

“A mercenary arrived in the village yesterday asking to speak with either of you two,” Cullen answered, “He says his mercenary captain wishes to offer his services to the Inquisition.”

“That would be Krem, one of the Bull’s Chargers” Erik nodded, “I’m assuming he’s still here?”

“He is. I told him you’d arrive today.”

“I’ll talk to him and meet with their commander. The Chargers should be out at the Storm Coast. They’re a good group, worth every penny.”

With nothing else pressing, the meeting adjourned, but Leliana motioned for Erik and Evelyn to stay,

"There is one other matter, she admitted, “Not long ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily, I wouldn't even consider the idea they're involved in all this, but the timing is… curious."

“That does sound odd, I agree,” Evelyn murmured, “Weisshaupt supposedly knows the locations of all the prisons of the Old Gods, don’t they? Could word have been sent that one of them has been tainted?”

The Spymaster shook her head. “As far as I’ve heard, Razikale and Lusacan, the remaining two Old Gods, still slumber,” she sighed, “The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it. 

"Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease," Leliana fidgeted with a sleeve and tension filled her voice.

“I’ll look for him before I move toward Redcliffe,” Evelyn agreed, “Those willing to come on such short notice will come with me.”

She smiled softly. “Thank you. Having someone actually listen to my suspicions is more comforting than you realize.”

“Herald? Champion? I’ve got a message, when you have the time,” they stopped to listen to the man, “We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.”

Erik nodded. “We can use all the help we can get.”

“We’re the best you’ll find. Come to the Storm Coast and you can see us in action.” He handed Erik a map with a location marked on it and left.

“You’re on top of that?” Evelyn asked Erik as he looked over the map.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to Leliana about sending Scout Harding ahead of me. I’ll leave in a day or two.”

“Good,” she gave a wry smile, “Give her that gift of yours while you’re at it.”

Erik sighed. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

Evelyn held up her hands in defense. “I’m just happy to see you adjusting. You can get kind of… broody. Maybe a relationship is what you need.”

“Or maybe it’s what _you_ need?” Erik jabbed with a smile, “I saw the way you looked at Cullen when we rode in.”

She immediately flustered. “You’re seeing things. There’s nothing there.”

“Only if you want nothing to be there. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’re practically undressing the poor with your eyes,” Erik rolled his eyes. He thought for a moment.

“Tell you what. I’ll go talk to Leliana if you go talk to Cullen.” Evelyn’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“That’s not fair!” she argued, “What’s the point of getting that perfume for her if you’re just going to use it to get me to talk to Cullen?”

“Talk to him, and I’ll talk to Leliana. Deal?” he held out a hand for her to shake. She looked torn for a moment before finally shaking his offered hand.

“Fuck you,” she murmured. Erik let out a belly laugh; it was the first time he’d heard her swear. He walked back to his cabin and grabbed the gift he’d wrapped in a cloth before wandering over to Leliana’s tent.

“So it’s true. Butler has turned on us. I hoped my hunch was wrong,” Leliana’s voice drifted toward him as Erik approached the tent. He froze. Of course now of all times would be the time that _this_ would happen. He took a deep breath and kept moving.

“You knew him well?” the agent in Leliana’s tent asked.

“Not as well as I thought. Show me the reports.”

The agent handed his spymaster a small stack of papers. She looked over them briefly, her face going slightly pale. Then she became angry.

“There were so many questions surrounding Farrier’s death. Did he think we wouldn’t notice? He’s killed Farrier. One of my best agents. And he knows where the others are,” she turned to the agent, “You know what must be done. Make it clean. Painless, if you can. We were friends once.”

Erik decided to step in, “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. What are you doing?”

“He betrayed us. He murdered my agent,” she turned on him, fire in her eyes.

“So you’d kill him? Just like that?”

“You find fault with my decision?” she approached Erik quickly, stepping close enough to feel her anger. Despite her fury, Erik stood his ground. Her chest shook with angry breath. He’d never seen her this furious before.

“In this case, I do. We can’t solve all our problems with murder,” Erik argued.

“And this is coming from the man who killed people for a living before he arrived at the Conclave. You of all people should know that sometimes we do what is necessary, not what is easy,” she laughed bitterly.

Erik crossed his arms, “My former occupation is all the more reason for me to understand that killing isn’t always the answer.”

“And what would you suggest? Leave him be?” she asked incredulously, “Butler’s betrayal put our agents in danger. I condemn one man to save dozens. I may not like what I do, but it must be done. I cannot afford the luxury of ideals at a time like this.”

“Now is _exactly_ the time for ideals,” Erik pushed.

“You feel very strongly about this,” she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

“Of course I do. I think you’re making a mistake by killing him. Besides, if you don’t like what you do, it’s a pretty good sign you’re doing something wrong.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” Leliana scoffed. She stared at Erik for a moment, her bright blue eyes giving off more emotion than she’d probably hoped. He thought of another way to approach this.

“Look, you don’t have to kill him. Not only would you have the death of someone you once called a friend on your conscience, you’d be ignoring potential information. Bring him in. Let me interrogate him. There’s no way this ‘Butler’ was working alone. We’ll find his accomplices and save more lives.”

Finally, she dropped her head and sighed, “Very well. If you believe that is the best course of action,” she turned to her agent, “Apprehend Butler, but see that he lives.”

Erik let out a silent sigh of relief.

“Now if you’re happy, I have more work to do,” she spoke dryly.

“Actually, work is exactly why I came here in the first place. Well, one of the reasons,” he admitted.

The spymaster raised an eyebrow. “What do you need?”

“I’m heading to the Storm Coast, probably tomorrow. Think you can have Harding arrive ahead of me and have her scouts survey the area?”

She nodded curtly. “I’ll send a raven to the Hinterlands in a few minutes. Was there anything else?”

Erik swallowed down the lump in his throat and took another step closer. “Actually there was one other thing.” He held out the small cloth bundle towards her.

“Evelyn and I were wandering Val Royeaux and came across a stall in the market,” he stated, just barely managing not to stammer, “I saw this and… well, I thought of you.”

She raised an eyebrow and took the cloth bundle. “You got me a gift? Trying to cozy up to me, are you?” she asked wryly.

“I’m trying,” he responded in a shy tone, “How am I doing?”

She smirked and unwrapped the cloth, gazing at the small glass bottle that was revealed within. Her smirk dropped away and her eyes widened imperceptibly as she read the label.

“This is…”

“I know you’re fond of Andraste’s Grace,” he explained, “I would have got a pair of shoes instead, but-”

“There wouldn’t really be an opportunity to wear anything like that here,” she smiled softly, “Sometimes I forget how much you know about all of us.” The spymaster uncorked the bottle and dabbed a small amount on her wrist before inhaling the fragrance. She relaxed slightly and a smile worked her way across her lips. Erik’s stomach felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

“I hope you like it,” he murmured.

She set the bottle down gently on her table and approached him. Her piercing blue eyes met his, and he fought the urge to look literally _anywhere_ but her eyes.

Then she stood on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Erik’s stomach did a backflip and his head went fuzzy.

“It’s perfect,” she smiled, “Thank you. Now, unless you have any more surprises under that cloak of yours, I really do have to get back to work.”

“R-right,” he stuttered, his body still in full meltdown, “I’ll let you get to it.”

The light, fuzzy feeling stayed with him for hours afterward, even as he sat alone in his cabin after dark and tried in vain to read the Genitivi book he’d bought. The feeling wasn’t unpleasurable, but he didn’t know what to make of it. What the hell was he doing stammering like a fourth grader giving a valentine to his crush? It was completely unlike him. He was never like this before. Had his journey to Thedas changed him? Somehow, he doubted that. It was an enigma that didn’t make any sense to him. Sure, he thought Leliana was beautiful, and smart, and sweet. At least, she had the capacity to be sweet when she wasn’t ordering hits on people that betrayed her. Still, she was just so _passionate_ about everything she cared about, even if she didn’t outwardly show it. There were other things he knew about her that she didn’t necessarily display, either. Her faith, however shaken, was deeply rooted in her. Faith was something he deeply respected, and something he never seemed to have. And the way her eyes lit up, however briefly, when he’d mentioned the music he’d taken with him to Thedas…

Oh boy. He really did have it bad, didn’t he?

A knock at his cabin ripped him from his thoughts, and he strode toward the door and opened it. He was met by Josephine, wrapped in a thick wool coat and an unreadable expression on her face.

“Champion. May I come in?” she asked in an indecipherable tone.

“For the last time, Josephine, you don’t have to call me that,” he sighed, gesturing the Antivan into his cabin. She stepped through the doorframe and let out a single shiver as she was greeted with the warmth of the hearth, in stark contrast to the frigid mountain air outside. He closed the door as she turned to him.

“You gave Leliana perfume??” she asked incredulously, quickly advancing on him. His heart dropped into his stomach. Had it been the wrong thing to get her?

“She told you?” he asked.

“Told me? Maker, it’s all she’s talked about to Cassandra and myself all night,” she laughed, “It absolutely made her day.”

“She… she liked it?” he asked nervously. Erik was significantly taller than the ambassador, true, but at the moment he felt like a little kid caught eating cookie dough by his mother. Josephine may as well have towered over him.

“Oh, did she like it? I haven’t seen Leliana like that in _years,_ ” Josephine gushed as she sat down in a chair, “It was like she completely forgot about everything else.”

Erik felt relief beyond relief wash over him. He flopped down onto his bed, his body completely free of tension.

“Thank _God_ ,” he groaned, “Honestly, the way you came in here, I thought she’d hated it and you’d come to end me.” Of course he knew that wasn’t true. Josephine was too sweet. If she really hated it that much, Leliana would have just come and done the job herself.

Still, the Antivan gave a small laugh. “It looks like this has been eating you up inside. Well, if Leliana didn’t know how you felt before, she certainly does now.”

“Yep. Wait. You knew?” he asked, raising his head to look at the merchant noble.

“Of course. Leliana is like a sister to me. I know when someone fancies her,” she smiled.

Erik sighed and stared back up at the ceiling, the tingling feeling that’d been with him all day in full effect.

“She kissed me.”

“She WHAT?!” Josephine shot from her chair with a shout. Erik winced slightly.

“It was just on the cheek. I don’t know if there were any implications behind it other than a simple ‘thank you’.” Not that he minded.

“Still! I _knew_ she wasn’t giving me the full story,” she grumbled, storming toward the door and yanking it open.

“No, no, no, Josie, wait,” his pleas fell on deaf ears as the lady ambassador flew out of his cabin, the door moving back into place with a solid _thunk._

Erik let out a soft grunt. The buzzing feeling was gone, and a rock felt like it’d found its way into his stomach. _Well, there goes any chance of_ that _going anywhere_ , he thought sullenly before shucking off his clothes and crawling into bed.

He awoke with the sun the next morning and prepared his belongings before eating a fast breakfast and groggily making his way to the stables, where Dennet had saddled Isaac and a second horse he didn’t recognize. As he secured his belongings to his horse a somewhat familiar face approached the second mount, checking over everything before the man in question swung himself into the saddle.

“Thought you’d already rode back out to the Storm Coast?” Erik asked the Tevinter mercenary.

“Nah, figured you could use the company,” Krem shrugged as he adjusted his shield, “Plus we’re less likely to get attacked if there’s two of us. Won’t slow us down any. Figured it was a better plan.”

Erik nodded in appreciation and didn’t say anything else as they rode out of Haven.

Most of the trip was made in relative silence, with the occasional small talk between the two men. It wasn’t until they made camp the second night that Krem finally started opening up.

“So, how much of it is true?” the Tevinter asked. Erik stopped eating his ram leg and raised an eyebrow.

“How much of what is true?” he asked.

“Everything. Sent from another world, can see the future, knows who everyone is, you know, _that_ whole thing.”

Erik shrugged. He shouldn’t be surprised that word his… otherness had spread. “Pretty much all of it. The part where I can see the future isn’t entirely right, but it’s the easiest way to explain it, so let’s go with that.”

“So how much do you know?” Krem asked, leaning in a bit and raising an eyebrow. Erik thought for a moment.

“I know how Bull lost his eye,” he said, secretly smug at Krem’s shocked expression, “I know that Grim doesn’t talk much, Skinner’s a bit… eager when it comes to fighting, Dalish is an ‘archer’ and isn’t fooling anyone-”

“Stop,” Krem put a hand up and took a deep breath, “That was fascinating and extremely unnerving.” His face scrunched up and he sat back slightly.

“So I guess you know about Bull then, too?”

“You mean that he’s a Ben-Hassrath spy that’s been ordered to join the Inquisition? Yeah, I know about that,” Erik confirmed.

“And you don’t care at all?” Krem asked, his face a mask of confusion.

“I mean, I _care_ , but as long as he doesn’t end up having me captured and subjected to saar-qamek, I don’t really care all that much,” Erik shrugged, “He’s gonna tell me when we get to the Coast anyways. I’m still gonna hire you guys.”

“Fucking hell, this is creepy as shit,” Krem laughed, “You’re the strangest blighter I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” Erik grinned.

They made good time to the Storm Coast, arriving there in just over a week. Once they arrived, Krem broke off to meet up with the rest of his company and Erik headed to meet Scout Harding. She gave him the information he needed (mostly that the Storm Coast was a shithole infested with Darkspawn) and Erik made his way to the location marked on his map.

What he found when he arrived was a relatively large skirmish underway on the beach: a group of clearly Tevinter soldiers fighting a shockingly diverse company of mercenaries. One stood out among the rest, though: a hulking Qunari, easily seven and a half feet tall, with giant horns and armed with the largest axe Erik had ever seen. Clearly The Iron Bull. His towering size made him look like a man in a children’s playground brawl, and he cut down Tevinter soldiers left and right with ease. Erik drew his swords and quickly jumped into the fray to help dispatch the Tevinters on the shoreline.

When the fighting was over, Bull approached him. "Chargers, stand down." The Qunari sat down on a boulder nearby and reached into his pouch, pulling out a cloth and cleaning his greataxe "Krem. How'd we do?"

"Five or six wounded, chief. No dead,” The young man called from across the beach.

"That's what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks,” He stood and walked towards me, “So you're with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Heard a lot about you guys. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming."

Erik graciously accepted his offer and they sat on a piece of driftwood.

Erik looked the giant man with one eye up and down. "Iron Bull, I take it?"

"Yeah, the horns usually give it away,” he laughed heartily, "I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant."

Krem approached gave a small bow. "Glad you didn’t get balled up by Darkspawn in the last hour," he joked before turning his attention to his commander, "Throatcutters are done, chief."

"Already? Have 'em check again. I won't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem."

"None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?"

Bull let out a belly laugh so contagious Erik couldn’t help but join in. He realized how much he missed the easy banter between soldiers, and a pang of homesickness briefly made its way into his gut before he kicked it aside.

Krem walked away, and Bull turned to Erik. "So… you’ve seen us in action. We're expensive, but we're worth it..." he noted a dead Tevinter Mage nearby, "And I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us."

Erik looked at the large company of soldiers. “The Chargers seem like an excellent company,” Erik noted. Something his old team sergeant told him crept into his mind: _A unit’s success is their own accomplishment; a unit’s failure is no fault but their leader’s_. Still, Iron Bull seemed to run more than a tight ship while still allowing for playful looseness. A telltale sign of a good leader.

"They are," he said, his voice filled with pride, "But you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard? I'm your man. Whatever it is - demons, dragons? The bigger the better." 

He stood up and took a few steps away, gesturing for Erik to follow. "And there's one more thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?"

“Yeah. You’re about to tell me that you’re Ben-Hassrath.”

Bull blinked and eyed Erik thoughtfully. “So you’re the one from another world. The one they’ve been calling the Champion of Andraste.”

“That’s what they call me,” Erik confirmed as he crossed his arms, “So tell me what I already know. Why are the Ben-Hassrath sending you to join us?”

Bull heaved a sigh. “The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I'll share them with your people. I won’t send anything to Par Vollen that will compromise the Inquisition’s activities. Just going to keep them updated on what’s going on. The less they know, the better, honestly."

Well, Erik could never say that honesty wasn’t the best policy when it came to dealing with him. And he could always use a walking battering ram that tripled as a spy and another drinking buddy. “On two conditions. First off, nothing about my origins. I don’t want to get kidnapped by a sleeper cell and shipped off to Par Vollen. Second, any reports you send out go through our spymaster first.”

Bull nodded. “Too easy.”

“Then you’re hired.”

“Excellent,” he slapped Erik on the shoulder, nearly bowling him over, then turned to his soldiers, "Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!"

Erik sent a message back to Haven informing the Inquisition leaders of the development and moved on. They agreed to travel together back to Haven, and despite the Qunari’s Ben-Hassrath origins, he grew fond of Bull, Krem, and the rest of the command team of the company. There were just over fifty people in the entire mercenary company, but they moved in a quick and organized manner that showed the mercenary company’s veteran skill. Despite that skill, however, they moved much slower with the unit’s equipment and size, and they returned to Haven a week and a half later.

Leliana was waiting for them. Her expressionless visage was back, and she said nothing as Erik and Bull approached.

“Leliana. I got the Chargers. Bull, this is Leliana, our spymaster. Anything you send out goes through her. Leliana, this is Bull, the commander of the Chargers.”

“Good to meet you,” Bull offered cordially. Leliana gave a slight nod back before turning toward Erik.

“We will speak about this later,” she muttered to him before turning and walking back into Haven. He felt a pang of guilt in his stomach for not warning her earlier about who Iron Bull worked for.

“Ah, redheads,” he heard Bull sigh happily.

That pang of guilt quickly turned into jealousy as Erik followed Leliana into Haven, preparing to smooth things out with the spymaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hot garbage at writing romance, sorry.
> 
> Erik's plan to raid Therinfal Redoubt will be the first of a handful of canon divergences throughout this story. Nothing will get too out of hand, I don't think, but we'll see.
> 
> We'll get back with Evelyn starting next chapter.
> 
> Title comes from Raise Your Horns by Amon Amarth - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ndu33Uv7Aco  
> It just seemed fitting.
> 
> All dialogue from the game is owned by Bioware/EA, as always.


	12. Master's Apprentices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn recruits Blackwall and runs into a problem with the Mage Rebellion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm off leave and back into work full-time, so posting is going to slow down probably. I'll still try to get at least one chapter out a week, but once June hits there's no telling what I'll be able to post.
> 
> As always, Bioware/EA owns the in-game dialogue as well as the world and its characters, I'm just goofing off in their creation.

Evelyn moved through Haven with apprehension and more than a little nervousness. Erik’s deal still rang through her head. Honestly, though, she didn’t know what he thought he saw. Sure, the Commander was handsome, perhaps a bit more than handsome, but she was still a tad bit apprehensive around the former Templar, even with their amicable working relationship. Regardless of his affiliation now, he still was once part of the order that jailed her for the majority of her life. And while the Templars at Ostwick were benign compared to many of the other Circles scattered throughout Thedas, they were still Templars, and they were still always watching. Worse, still, Cullen was from Kirkwall, undoubtedly the worst Circle to be at in the world. He may have regretted being a part of what Knight-Commander Meredith had done, but she couldn’t just overlook the possibility that he had done horrible things while stationed in the City of Chains. He could have potentially killed several of her fellow mages, or worse, participated in the Rite of Tranquility…

No. It was a bad idea to approach the Fereldan. Regardless of her physical attraction to the man, or how kind he appeared to be, there were still potential demons in the man’s past that she didn’t know if she could get over. She moved to prepare her mount instead, a gentle, cream-colored mare she’d named Epona, after the horse her family had owned when she was a child. She wordlessly checked over her saddle and provisions she’d kept tied to it, refusing to think about Cullen or Erik’s insistence that she speak with the man.

“Leaving so soon?” a smooth voice asked behind her. She jumped slightly in shock and spun around. It was Cullen - of course fate had other plans.

“Tomorrow,” she responded, forcing the shock out of her voice, “Leliana spoke to me about a Grey Warden that’s been spotted in the Hinterlands. I’m hoping to catch him before I move on to Redcliffe.”

“She’s still on about that?” Cullen asked, seemingly surprised, “The Wardens disappear all the time to hunt Darkspawn, and Ferelden’s branch of the Order is notoriously small; they’re still recovering from almost being wiped out during the blight and the Hero of Ferelden is apparently extremely particular about who he accepts as recruits. It’d be extremely easy to lose track of a couple dozen Grey Wardens, in my opinion.”

“They all vanished, Cullen,” Evelyn argued, “Nobody’s heard from the Orlesian Grey Wardens, either.”

“Could word have been sent about something big happening with the Darkspawn?”

She shook her head. “Leliana says she hasn’t heard anything, and Erik was suspiciously quiet during our conversation. Besides, if something big  _ were _ happening, do you think they’d tell everyone right away? The Grey Wardens are notoriously secretive.”

Cullen grimaced and crossed his arms. “Still, it seems a little excessive to go out and track down  _ one _ Warden during all this.”

“If he can help put Leliana’s mind at ease, I’ll do it. I wouldn’t want our spymaster worrying over something if it can be avoided.”

“True,” he acquiesced. Cullen was silent for a moment, and Evelyn turned to finish her preparations for the next morning.

“What is your plan for dealing with the mages?” he asked almost a minute. Evelyn thought for a moment. What  _ was _ her plan? Erik hadn’t told her anything substantial, besides the fact that between the two of them, she had to be the one at Redcliffe.

“I’m not sure,” Evelyn admitted, “Fiona was vague about her invitation when we met in Val Royeaux, and Erik was even more evasive about what I should expect. All he told me is that I had to be there.”

“I agree with his assessment on that, at least,” Cullen admitted, “A mage being regarded as Andraste’s Herald and being highly ranked in the Inquisition’s structure would make you the more appealing candidate for talks with the mages, at least between yourself and the Champion.”

“Just because we can both use magic doesn’t mean Fiona will listen to me,” Evelyn pointed out, “Especially if she learns we plan on trying to recruit the Templars, as well.”

Cullen’s brow twisted into a thoughtful frown. Maker, he really was handsome. She still felt nervous around the man, true, but she no longer feared persecution from him the way she did when she first learned he was a Templar. Or former Templar.

“What do you think of Erik’s plan?” she asked when Cullen didn’t respond.

“A raid with pinpoint goals such as the ones Erik laid out is far more likely to succeed than a full-on assault,” Cullen explained, “Though I fear there may still be too many loose threads.”

“Such as?”

“From my time spent with him adapting a tactic from his military into one that will work with the Inquisition, I learned a great deal about warfare in his world. His people are so advanced that traditional battles are largely a thing of the past, and units can successfully assault a target and be fifty miles away within the span of an hour. As skilled a combatant and as intelligent as he is, he doesn’t truly know how warfare is conducted in Thedas, as he’s never experienced it. A raid such as the one he's planned  would be successful in his world, of that I have no doubts. But what if the bulk of the continent’s Templars are camped at and around Therinfal? A company sized element such as the one he proposed will not be able to engage them successfully, and even if he succeeds in extracting the Templars who-” Cullen abruptly stopped and swallowed.

“Commander?” Evelyn asked apprehensively. He shook his head and blinked. Something had shaken him, it was clear, but she decided not to press the issue.  


“Apologies. Even if Erik succeeds in rescuing the Templars who have not... ingested red lyrium, there’s no guarantee the remainder will not pursue. He may cause more problems than he intends to solve.”

Evelyn was surprised at Cullen’s appraisal of the situation. She knew he was tactically smart, but it appeared he’d put serious thought into the situation.

“Are you worried?”

“It’s my job to worry,” he laughed bitterly, “Before Erik revealed the extent of the Order’s corruption, I would have suggested negotiations with Lord Seeker Lucius. Now, with my trust of the future knowledge the Champion has at his disposal, I fear that the Templars as we knew them may be gone for good. And regardless of what they’ve become, they served a noble purpose once. I had at least hoped that there may be redemption for them at the end of all this.”

Evelyn didn’t know what to say to that. She was no fan of Templars - she knew few mages who were - but deep down she knew their purpose was necessary. She’d seen what a single abomination could do, let alone a dozen or more, like what had happened at Ostwick when it fell. She wanted freedom, but knew there must be safeguards in place to protect others. She just didn’t know where the balance lay.

“I apologize,” Cullen offered, snapping Evelyn out of her thoughts, “I’ve taken too much of your time.”

“I’d never say no to a conversation with you, Cullen,” Evelyn replied before she could stop herself. Her jaw snapped shut and her brain froze. Where the hell did that come from?

Cullen’s hand went to the back of his neck. “I should probably go anyways. There’s much to do, and I shouldn’t put my duties off any longer,” he responded with what sounded like nervousness. Evelyn simply nodded in response, not trusting herself to say something without thinking.

The Commander turned and left without another word. Evelyn heaved a sigh and dropped her forehead onto Epona’s side, earning a huff from the mount in response. Not wanting to analyze what had just happened, she continued with her preparations and moved off to find Varric. Maybe a game of Wicked Grace would take her mind off things.e

She awoke early the next morning and left Haven with Cassandra, Vivienne and Solas in tow. They moved relatively silently, and other than a few quips her two mage companions shot at each other, their journey into the Hinterlands was peaceful.They made good time to the Crossroads, and Evelyn was relieved to see it had almost fully recovered from the warzone it had appeared to be last she was there.

It wasn’t very difficult to locate the sole Grey Warden in the region, especially when he was announcing himself as such and looking for recruits. They tracked him to a small cottage by a lake, where he had three young men standing with swords in hand; recruits, Evelyn assumed. As they approached, Evelyn noticed he was older than she’d anticipated. His black hair was slicked back and a thick, black beard with hints of greying covered his face. He wore a griffon emblazoned breastplate over his sturdy frame and was drilling the recruits in shieldwork; the barking of orders and the clash or drilling warriors was more than familiar to her now.

She approached loudly enough to be heard. “Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?” Evelyn asked after a quick glance toward Cassandra.

The Warden’s features held a slightly surprised look as he slowly approached. "You're not - How do you know my name? Who sent..." His eyes flashed and he raised his shield, blocking an arrow that would have hit Evelyn squarely in the throat as she jumped back in shock.

"That's it. Help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first."

It took less than three minutes to dispatch the bandits that had ambushed them. Blackwall was as efficient as Cassandra and as remorseless as Erik as he fought, cutting down half a dozen bandits in the short stretch of a minute. Evelyn immolated, shocked, and froze as many as she could, and while she was still unhappy they had to die, she didn’t have the sickening feeling in her gut that stuck with her for her first week in the Hinterlands. Blackwall drove his sword into the last living bandit and looked at the carnage. 

"Sorry bastards." Blackwall rose and turned towards the recruits.

"Good work, conscripts, even if this shouldn't have happened. They could've... " he sighed, "Well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves." He watched them leave, then turned to face Evelyn. 

"You're no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you?"

"My name is Evelyn Trevelyan. I know who you are because I'm an agent of the Inquisition. I'm investigating whether the disappearance of the Wardens has anything to do with the murder of the Divine," she explained calmly.

He looked insulted. "Maker's balls, the Wardens and the Divine? That can't - No, you're asking, so you don't really know," Blackwall concluded as he crossed his arms. 

"First off, I didn't know they disappeared,” the Warden explained with a shrug, “But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."

Evelyn held up her hands defensively. “I’m well aware that the Wardens are apolitical. I'm not here to accuse. I just need information. I've only found you. Where are the rest?"

"I haven't seen any other Wardens for months,” he explained, “I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight coming. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need… who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I 'conscripted' their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me," his gaze became unfocused as he gazed at the ground, "Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are."

"Do you have any idea where the other Wardens could have gone?" she asked, still not entirely convinced that all the Grey Wardens in Southern Thedas just  _ disappeared _ .

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Maybe they returned to our stronghold at Weisshaupt? That's in the Anderfels, a long way north. I don't really know. Can't imagine why they'd all disappear at once, let alone where they'd disappear to."

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

He tensed slightly. “Well, maybe I was going to. Or maybe there's a new directive, but a runner got lost or something. My job was to recruit on my own. Planned to stay that way for months. Years."

Oh, boy. Leliana wasn’t going to be happy. "It's been a pleasure, Warden Blackwall, I’m not sure what to make of it all."

We turned to leave when Blackwall spoke again. "Inquisition... Agent, did you say? Hold a moment. The Divine is dead, and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved. If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me."

Evelyn almost laughed. “The Inquisition needs all the support it can get, but what can one Grey Warden do?”

“Save the fucking world, if pressed,” Blackwall scoffed, a hint of pride in his voice. Evelyn had to admit, the man had a point.

He gazed at the Breach, still visible in the sky even from this distance. "Look, maybe fighting demons from the sky isn't something I'm practiced at, but show me someone who is. And like I said, there are treaties. Maybe this isn't a Blight, but it's bloody well a disaster. Some will honor them. Being a Warden means something to a lot of people."

Evelyn considered his proposal for a moment, then held out her hand. "Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer."

Blackwall shook it, then Cassandra spoke up. “Herald, are you sure? The Grey Wardens may not be happy with us stealing a veteran Warden out from underneath them and using their treaties.”

Blackwall’s eyes widened. “Herald? You said you were just an Inquisition agent, not the Inquisition’s bloody leader.”

“I am just an agent, really. We haven’t actually chosen an Inquisitor yet,” Evelyn denied before she turned to Cassandra, “I’m sure the Grey Wardens will understand what’s going on requires as much aid as possible. Besides, we’ll use the teraties sparingly.”

She grunted begrudgingly and they prepared to leave.

Blackwall had agreed to travel to Haven and speak with Cullen, Leliana and Josephine about what he could offer for the Inquisition while they moved on toward Redcliffe village and the bulk of the mages housed there. They made it to Redcliffe without trouble, but there was a rift outside the city gates. Evelyn and her companions dispatched the demons attacking the city guard and she swiftly sealed the Veil tear, but something was off about its properties.

“What in the hell was that?” Evelyn asked. She’d closed dozens of rifts by now, and none had made her feel sluggish at one moment and inhumanly fast the next like that one had just done.

"That rift altered the flow of time around itself. That is..." Solas paused, glancing at the remains left by the rift, "Unexpected."

Unexpected was beyond an understatement. “Well. Hopefully the Rebel Mages can provide us with some answers,” Evelyn sighed, “Come on, let’s head in.”

Things immediately began to go wrong. An Inquisition scout approached her and bowed. "We've spread word the Inquisition was coming, but you should know that no one here was expecting us."

"No one? Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?" Cassandra asked.

"If she was, she hasn't told anyone. We've arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations." She glanced back nervously at her three companions, who all seemed as confused as on edge as she felt. As they headed further into town, an elven man in odd robes approached. 

"Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies,,” he began, “Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn't yet arrived. He's expected shortly. You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime."

Evelyn nodded slowly, refusing to show her shock as the messenger left their presence. A Tevinter Magister? Was  _ this _ what Erik meant when he said something would happen at Redcliffe?

“There’s a Magister in charge? Has Fiona completely lost her mind?” Vivienne spluttered. Cassandra and Solas didn’t speak, but they looked as flabbergasted and furious as Vivienne sounded.

“There’s something sketchy going on here. Stay on your toes,” she said sharply as they headed further into town, praying that Erik’s vague warning was wrong.

"Welcome, agents of the Inquisition,” Fiona greeted as they entered the tavern. She nodded to Madame de Fer, "First Enchanter Vivienne."

“My dear Fiona, it's been so long since we last spoke. You look dreadful. Are you sleeping well?" Her eyes were colder than a winter night.

Fiona ignored the quip and turned to Evelyn. "What has brought you to Redcliffe, Senior Enchanter?"

She blinked in shock. "We're here because of your invitation in Val Royeaux…?" Did she truly not remember inviting Erik and herself to Redcliffe for negotiations?

Fiona shook her head in denial. "You must be mistaken. I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave."

Cassandra was openly staring at the Grand Enchanter, confused as everyone else. "If it wasn't you who invited us here, who was it?"

"I... I don't know. Now that you say it, I feel strange..." she sighed, "Whoever… or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already… pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium. As one indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."

Evelyn was certain this was the ‘horrible event’ that Erik had warned of. “An alliance with Tevinter is a horrible mistake," she said bluntly.

"What choice do we have? All hope of peace died with Justinia," Fiona's face fell, "This… bargain with Tevinter would not have been my first choice, but we had no options. We are losing this war. I needed to save as many of my people as I could."

Before Evelyn could reply, a middle-aged man walked into the tavern, dressed in similarly odd but much finer robes than the elf who had met them. Evelyn immediately had him pegged as this Magister Alexius that was spoken of.

"Welcome, my friends," he greeted cordially, "I apologize for not greeting you earlier."

Fiona spoke again. "Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."

"The southern Mages are under my command," he bowed and looked at Evelyn with an almost predatory gaze, "And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting."

She glanced at her companions. No one said anything, and the tension in the tavern was palpable. It was up to herself to negotiate, Evelyn decided.  _ Since when was I in charge? _ "I'd like to know more about this alliance between the Rebel Mages and the Imperium."

“Certainly! What specifically do you wish to know?" he asked in a friendly tone.

Evelyn shook her head and arranged her scattered thoughts into several questions. "I'm not clear on when, exactly, you negotiated this arrangement with Fiona."

"When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the Templars, who rushed to attack them,” he explained, his voice slowly growing demeaning, “It could only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did."

"It was certainly… very timely,” Fiona admitted, clearly questioning the Magister.

There were too many questions. Where was Arl Teagan? Deposed? Was King Alistair aware of this? Probably not yet, or he’d already be on his way. What did the Imperium even gain from taking thousands of Mages in? More mages than they already had? Evelyn knew the questions were too inflammatory to ask, so she kept them to herself and begrudgingly accepted the new situation.

"If you're leading the mages now, then let's talk. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

"It's always a pleasure to meet someone so reasonable." He took a seat at a table, gesturing to an open chair across from him, which she begrudgingly accepted.

"Felix, would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners. My son, Felix, friends.” Evelyn smiled at the young man with short hair as Alexius continued. 

“I'm not surprised you're here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could ever attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed."

“What can I say? I’m an ambitious woman,” she jovially replied, an edge of aggression undercutting her voice.

Felix returned with a scribe. He was a few feet away from the table when he stumbled and began to collapse. Evelyn caught him and felt him slip a scrap of paper into the pocket of her overcoat; the young man gave a subtle wink as she looked at him, and the Marcher quickly understood what he was doing.

"Felix!" Magister Alexius cried, voice filled with distraught. He moved to take his son, and she passed Felix’s weight off to his father.

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady," the young man apologized, accepting his father’s shoulder, "I'm fine, Father."

"Come, I'll get your powders,” the Magister led his son away, his face slightly paler and clearly jarred, “Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time. Fiona, I will require your services."

"I don't mean to trouble everyone," Felix muttered as he was led from the room.

"I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date," Alexius offered as they left the tavern.

Evelyn sat back down and motioned for the party to gather around, forming a half circle that blocked any prying eyes. Cassandra stood over her, ensuring that no one but they four saw the note. Once Evelyn was sure of secrecy, she unfurled the small note.

_ Come to the Chantry. You are in danger. _

This excursion was getting worse and worse. “Looks like we have a meeting to attend.”

They walked into the Chantry and were immediately faced with a rift. A handsome man with dark hair and olive skin struck down a demon with magic, then swatted the dead, dissolving thing with his staff for good measure.

"Good. You're here," his accent was Tevinter. He nodded to the Fade rift behind him, "Now help me close this, would you?"

Demons poured out of the rift, and Evelyn and her companions were faced with a new challenge: there were spots on the ground that distorted time, much like the rift outside Redcliffe. Some sped it up, others slowed it down. It was nauseating, to say the least. Eventually, she managed to seal the rift and was rewarded with the unholy screaming of demons being pulled back into the Fade.

"Fascinating," the Tevinter mage muttered as he approached Evelyn, "How does that work, exactly?" 

He laughed jovially before she could respond, "You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom. Rift closes."

Evelyn finally got a good look at the man. He was extremely handsome, his dark hair done up in the front and an ever-present twinkle of laughter in his hazel eyes. Despite his seemingly innate charisma, she was still on her guard; meetings with Tevinters were rarely positive.

“I believe introductions are in order,” she said through a stiff smile.

“Ah. Getting ahead of myself again, I see,” he bowed, twirling his hand in front of him as he did, “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do? Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable - as I'm sure you can imagine."

Evelyn nodded in greeting, ensuring she didn’t respond with her name. “I’m sure your aid will be of great help, but to be honest, I expected Felix.”

"I'm sure he's on his way,” Dorian waved his hand dismissively, “He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father.”

"Alexius couldn't jump to Felix's side fast enough when he pretended to be faint," Cassandra pointed out.

"Is something wrong with him?" Solas asked.

Concern washed over Dorian’s face. "He's had the Blight for months. Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen."

Evelyn crossed her arms and decided to force the conversation back on track. "You're betraying your mentor because...?"

"Alexius  _ was  _ my mentor,” Dorian explained with a sour look, “Meaning he's not any longer, not for some time." 

The Tevinter sighed. "Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the Mage Rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."

Vivienne scoffed dismissively, but Evelyn shot her a glare that silenced the pompous mage before she could say anything. Honestly, with all the insanity that had happened to her in the past two months, it was believable enough. Even if she didn’t remember it, she and Erik had physically walked the Fade; what made time magic any less believable?

"He planned it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died?" she asked, deciding to go along with the insane explanation.

“You catch on quickly.”

"That is fascinating, if true..." Solas admitted apprehensively, "And almost certainly dangerous."

"The rift you closed here?" Dorian kicked the remains of a demon, "You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon there will be more like it, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world.”

Dorian sighed again, likely seeing that he wasn’t getting through to the four Southerners. "Please trust me. I know what I'm talking about - I helped develop this magic.”

“You helped  _ develop it _ ?” Cassandra snapped angrily. Despite the outburst of emotion, Evelyn had to agree. A little thought could reveal how potentially destructive such magic would be.

“When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory,” Dorian shrugged dismissively, “Alexius could never get it to work. What I don't understand is why he's doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"He didn't do it for them," Felix's voice echoed through the Chantry as he approached.

"Took you long enough," Dorian bounded towards the other man, "Is he getting suspicious?"

"No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day,” he turned to address Evelyn, “My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori.' And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you."

“Just me? Not Erik?” Evelyn asked.

Felix shook his head. “You’re the one with the mark, and from what I understand, you’re the one that’s a danger to the Venatori’s plans. I overheard him describing the Champion of Andraste as ‘inconsequential’.”

“But why would he rearrange time and indenture the Mage Rebellion just to get to me?” Evelyn asked, trying to understand the situation.

"They're obsessed with you and your mark, but I don't know why. It may be because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes, but if that were the case, why not obsess over the Champion, as well?” Felix pondered.

"You can close the rifts," Dorian pointed out, "Maybe there's a connection? Or they see you as a threat?"

Felix sighed. "If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought."

“So what do you suggest?” Evelyn asked, glancing quickly at her companions. Cassandra was hovering near me like a protective mother, and Solas had practically placed himself between her and the Tevinters.

"You know you're his target,” Dorian tapped his staff on the ground absentmindedly, "Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch." 

He turned to leave, then looked at Felix. "And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."

"There are worse things than dying, Dorian."

Dorian’s eyes filled with sorrow and he left the Chantry through a side door.

“Well  _ that _ went well,” Evelyn sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"We came for information. And we certainly have that,” Cassandra commented, “Let us report back to Leliana and see what she can learn about these Venatori."

“Maybe Erik will know, too,” Evelyn realized, “I have a bone to pick with that man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Master's Apprentices by Opeth - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hR7S3lLP28
> 
> If anyone caught it, Evelyn's name is absolutely a reference to Zelda, as well as Celtic mythology. With the Trevelyan sigil apparently being a horse and the connection that Ferelden and Ostwick have to Celtic culture, it made sense to name Evelyn's horse after the Celtic goddess of horses, and it let me reference Legend of Zelda, so it was a win-win.
> 
> With the Cullen/Evelyn thing, it's going to be a fairly slow burn. I chose to make Evelyn a mage, and even though the game doesn't show it, I'd imagine in reality both Cullen and a mage Trevelyan would have some serious hang-ups about the other to get over. I refuse to believe a Marcher Circle mage wouldn't have heard the horror stories coming out of Kirkwall, and Cullen has pretty terrible PTSD due to the actions of mages in the past. Both of them would have to grow a bit and feel more comfortable with one another before anything further would develop. I'll try to write that growth as smoothly as possible, but it's my first time writing a romance plot, and I was stupid enough to write two (three?), even if one of them is kind of aided by the fact that Brianne Battye, Cullen's writer in Inquisition, did most of the work for me.
> 
> Next two chapters are going to be pretty dark, so fair warning. 
> 
> Also complete side note but I just finished rewatching Neon Genesis Evangelion with my friends while we were on leave and as incredible as the show is, I completely forgot how easily it will give you an existential crisis.


	13. Sworn to the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik raids Therinfal Redoubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty dark, I think.
> 
> The aftermath of a brutal torturing is described near the end of the chapter, and a the fairly gruesome murder of a man is described about halfway through. You have been warned.
> 
> Bioware/EA owns the world, any dialogue from the game, and the non-original characters. I'm just playing with their legos.

As it turned out, Leliana was not upset with Erik for bringing a Ben-Hassrath spy to the Inquisition. At least, not entirely.

“You _knew_ that a Tevinter Magister had enslaved the Mage Rebellion and chose not to tell us?” Leliana snapped as soon as they entered the War Room together. Evelyn was standing next to Cassandra, arms crossed, and Cullen’s face was grim and stony. Josephine seemed to be the only one that wasn’t outwardly furious, and she still had a stressed and exasperated look on her face.

“I did,” Erik admitted as he silently prepared himself for the tirade he was about to receive.

“What were you thinking, Erik? We’re supposed to trust each other. How are we supposed to do that if you let me walk into the spider’s den regardless?” Evelyn ranted.

“I absolutely did. You were in no danger there. At least, not that encounter with him, you weren’t.”

“You’re saying she's going to be in even _more_ danger if we send her again?” Cullen almost yelled, “If that’s the case, we should quit this nonsense, scrap your plan for Therinfal and double our efforts for the Templars.”

“If Evelyn goes to Therinfal Redoubt, she’ll be attacked by Envy and it’ll try to impersonate her, and there’s no guarantee that she’ll survive the encounter,” Erik retorted, “Redcliffe is probably safer for Evelyn than Therinfal Redoubt, where she’ll be surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands of Templars hopped up on red lyrium.”

“I would debate whether red lyrium is more dangerous than a Tevinter Magister,” Cassandra debated.

“I wouldn’t. Red lyrium is way more dangerous. You know why? It infects anything that it gets into, because it has the _fucking Blight_!” Erik yelled.

“The Blight only infects living things,” Josephine noted, her brow furrowed, “For it to infect lyrium would mean…” Her eyes widened at the implication.

“Lyrium is alive,” Erik confirmed, “I promise you, it is alive in a way you will never be able to fully comprehend and that I don’t have time to explain without completely throwing the world on its head.”

Silence filled the room at the new revelation he had dropped. He didn’t want to tell them about red lyrium, but he had to. He didn’t want Evelyn going anywhere near Therinfal, which was filled with an envy demon and walking anti-magic fields hopped up on Blighted magical super-meth. The silence continued, so Erik moved on with his point.

“What would you have done if you’d found out? Assaulted Redcliffe? There would have been civilian casualties, and Alexius has fucking _time magic_. He could just erase your actions and plan better. Or he would have holed himself up in Redcliffe Castle, and as I’m sure you’re aware, Redcliffe Castle is one of the most impenetrable fortresses in Southern Thedas. Evelyn was as safe as she could be in that situation. I wouldn’t withhold any information that would put her or anyone else in unnecessary danger, but there needs to be a level of risk involved.

“Evelyn, you’re going to be in almost constant mortal danger until this is all over. I’m going to do my best to mitigate that, but you need to accept that you may die at any point. It’s part of the job. I had to accept it when I went to war, and that’s what this is. This is a war. So the question now is, what will you all do about it?”

"Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister. This cannot be allowed to stand," Cassandra declared.

“Erik is right. We don't have the manpower to take the castle," Cullen added, "We need to find another way in."

"As we were discussing before the Champion’s arrival, I received a missive from Magister Alexius the day before Evelyn returned. The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It's an obvious trap," Josephine noted.

Erik sighed. “Time’s ticking, if the letter’s already arrived. We can't waste time fighting amongst ourselves. We have to come to an agreement." The room was silent for a moment, with Cullen, Cassandra and Evelyn looking at him with slight distrust. He felt frustration bubbling up, and it was all he could do not to leave the war room and let them deal with the problem themselves.

Leliana scowled at the rest of them. "A Tevinter Magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and before Erik revealed the true nature of Red Lyrium, some of us wanted to do nothing."

"Not this again," Josephine sighed in exasperation.

"As Erik noted, Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden, perhaps the world," Cullen said, clearly having repeated this argument several times,"It has repelled thousands of assaults." 

The Commander turned towards Evelyn. "If you go in there, you'll die. And we'll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won't allow it."

"And if we don't even try to meet Alexius, we lose the Mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep," Leliana’s honeyed voice slowly rose.

"Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught," Josephine pointed out, "An 'Orlesian' Inquisition's army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied."

“The Magister--” Cassandra began.

"Has outplayed us," Cullen interrupted.

Evelyn sighed and looked at the map. “It’s a castle. There _has_ to be another way in.”

"There's nothing I know of that would work," Cullen said tiredly. Erik turned to Leliana after a long bout of silence.

“Should I remind you of how your group got in there during the Blight?” he asked with slight frustration.

Leliana’s eyes lit up subtly and every head turned to her. She smiled, "There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family. It's too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through."

"Too risky," the Templar in the room debated. "Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the Magister."

"That's why we need a distraction," Leliana turned her eyes toward Evelyn, "Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?"

"Focus their attention on Evelyn while we take out the Tevinters. It's risky, but it could work," Cullen grudgingly agreed. He didn’t sound happy about the plan at all.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I played the bait in my life,” Evelyn noted.

The door swung open, revealing Dorian, one of Cullen’s messengers trailing behind him. "Fortunately, you'll have help."

Dorian Pavus was a sight to behold. Erik was not attracted to men, but he had to admit, the Tevinter was fucking _handsome_. And it was only accentuated by the natural glee and charisma that played in his hazel eyes as he strode into the room.

The runner looked at Cullen. "This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander." Leliana waved the man off, and he saluted and backed away.

“Dorian Fucking Pavus. I am so damn happy you’re here,” Erik grinned. He had always liked Dorian, and it seems that the flesh-and-bone version of the northern mage would be no different.

The Altus eyed him suspiciously. “Do I know you?”

“Erik has seen the past and future, Dorian. It’s unnerving, but I would just assume he already knows who you are,” Evelyn sighed with fatigue.

Dorian was not convinced. He crossed his arms and leaned his weight back on one leg. “Does he now?”

“You prefer the company of men. You helped develop Alexius’s time magic, and he was your mentor. Maevaris Tilani is one of your closest friends, you’re not a Magister, you’re an Altus, and you hate it when Southerners think the two are the same because Magister Pavus is your father,” Erik rattled off bluntly before adding more gently, “And I’m sorry about what happened with him before you left Tevinter, by the way. It was a heinous crime and he should be haunted every day by it.”

Dorian’s lightly tanned skin paled slightly and he took a step back. “Maker, you really _do_ know people’s secrets, don’t you?”

“Only certain people, I promise,” Erik assured.

“I… I had heard rumours as I traveled to Redcliffe, but-”

“They’re true.... mostly,” Erik confirmed, “Now, explain to the Inquisition how you’ll help.”

Dorian quickly regained his charming disposition and smiled wryly. "Your spies will never get past Alexius's magic without my help. So if you're going after him, I'm coming along.”

Evelyn took a deep breath. “You could have killed me in Redcliffe, but you warned me about what was really going on. So I’ll trust you,” Evelyn nodded to the Tevinter Mage. He seemed reassured by the Herald’s words and relaxed slightly.

"This plan puts you in the most danger,” Cullen finally said to Evelyn, “We can't, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if you'd rather not play the bait. It's up to you."

The redheaded Marcher looked at the map in deep thought. “Do you have the company of soldiers ready to work with Erik?” she asked.

A muscle in the former Templar’s neck jumped slightly. “I do.”

“Leliana, have you sent scouts out into the region?” The Nightingale nodded subtly. 

Evelyn crossed her arms. “Then I’m the bait. Alexius will bite. I want Cassandra and Varric with me and Dorian when we go in there. I’ve worked with them the most and it should go smoothly enough.”

She looked up at Erik’s weary and tired face. “Erik. Is there anything I need to know before we go in there?”

He couldn’t lie to himself. He was worried. If he made one wrong move, Evelyn would be lost in time and they’d all be fucked. It was extremely dangerous, but it was better than her getting the Blight and becoming a ghoul, or being replaced by Envy and the world falling regardless.

To make matters worse, it wasn’t pixels on his computer screen that was about to go through a living hell that would probably scar them for life. It was his friend, someone he almost viewed as a little sister despite their closeness in age.

“There are a couple things, but not here. Alone.” She nodded in agreement.

“I’m riding to Therinfal Redoubt tomorrow, Cullen. When I’m done speaking with Evelyn, I’ll come find you, and you’ll need to introduce me to the soldiers you’ve chosen.”

“Very well,” the blond responded sharply. With nothing else, they filed out of the war room one by one. Erik caught Evelyn’s arm before she left the room and gently pulled her back in, closing the door behind them. He hopped up on the table and stared at her silently.

“Well? What do I need to know?” she asked with no small amount of frustration.

“You’re about to see horrible, horrible things, Evelyn. I wish there was another way to do this, but there isn’t.”

“Then why don’t I just go to Therinfal?” she asked icily.

“Because I’d rather risk losing myself to an envy demon than a friend,” he admitted. Evelyn’s icy gaze fell and she looked at him nervously.

“What is going to happen in Redcliffe?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Erik sighed, “But I will be here when you get back. Talk to me about it. Don’t wall yourself off. I’ve been through hell, too, and I can help. But I need to warn you that things are going to get very, very, _very_ bad for a little bit. There are four pieces of advice I can give you before you leave.” She looked at him silently, all her attention on Erik.

“Firstly, don’t give up hope. No matter what happens, no matter what you see, don’t ever give up hope. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Second, do not touch anything that isn’t metal directly. Not even skin. Wear gloves if you have to. Third, there can be no apprehension. No hesitation. Fight for your life and kill everything that attacks you. Finally, trust Dorian Pavus.”

Evelyn opened her mouth to protest his final point, but he held up a hand and shot her a stern gaze. She became silent once more.

“I know he’s a Tevinter, and there’s inherent mistrust. I’m begging you to throw it away. Throw it away and never think about it again. Dorian may be the most genuine man you will ever meet. You can trust him implicitly, so that's what I’m asking you to do. Trust Dorian Pavus with your life, Evelyn.”

She was silent for a very long time after that, studying his face as if to gleam any hidden meaning behind his words. Erik sat silently, looking at her with pleading eyes.

“All right,” she finally said, “I’ll trust him.”

“Good,” he smiled as he let out a breath of relief, “Now I need to bathe and meet Cullen. Go get some rest. You have a big day coming up.”

After bathing and changing into fresh clothes, he headed toward the training ground. Cullen was there, briefing a company’s worth of soldiers.

“Commander!” Erik called out. Cullen’s eyes snapped toward him and he stood a bit straighter.

“Champion. These are the soldiers that have been selected. I chose them based on prior service history, adaptability, and willingness to participate in this mission.”

Erik nodded his acceptance and approval. “Where’s the commanding officer?” he asked.

“Here,” a feminine voice called out. Erik turned to find that a Qunari had pushed herself to the front of the crowd. She was tall, probably five or six inches taller than Erik, and her skin was a light grey. Her horns spiraled backward from her brow, and snow white hair was braided down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a dark purple that held the same look every experienced veteran had. _Some things translated across species_ , Erik thought.

“Herah Adaar,” she introduced, holding her hand out. Erik shook it, refusing to let his shock color his face. Adaar was alive? Were the others?

“I’ll brief the rest of you tomorrow,” Erik declared, “I need to speak with your commanding officer.”

Cullen nodded to Erik and dismissed the company, and the two men turned back to Adaar.

“I thought you were with the Valo-Kas,” Erik admitted.

“I was. After the Conclave happened and your Inquisition was declared, I decided to stick around,” the Vashoth shrugged, “I thought you guys could do some good for the world, so I decided to help. The Valo-Kas and I parted on good terms.”

“Captain Adaar is experienced in assaults like the one you planned,” Cullen explained, “She volunteered her services, and I accepted.”

Erik thought for a moment. “Did the Commander brief you?”

“Go in, get anything that hasn’t eaten red lyrium out, and kill anything that did eat it. Sounds simple.”

The Qunari woman was straightforward, which relieved him slightly. What’s more, her tone held confidence that lacked misplaced pride, and that made him even more content with Cullen’s choice.

“There’s also an envy demon at Therinfal. It’s impersonating Lord Seeker Lucius. If we see it, we kill it,” Erik added, “He’ll be the only guy in Seeker armor.” Herah nodded once.

“I’ll let you two get acquainted. There are other matters I must take care of for the Herald’s mission,” Cullen declared before nodding to the pair and walking off.

“The Herald’s doing something, too?” Herah asked. Erik nodded.

“She’s going to try and recruit the mages and take out the Tevinter Magister that’s holed himself up in Redcliffe while we go after the Templars.”

“Makes sense,” Herah said with an air of thought, “There’s two of you Fade survivors, might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“That’s the plan,” Erik agreed. He thought for a moment before asking, “Have you had any problems with the soldiers that’ll be under your command?”

“A few,” Herah shrugged, “I either put them in their place or asked the Commander to remove them from the mission. Hasn’t been a peep since.” Erik didn’t respond.

“Why? You got a problem working with an _ox-woman_?” she asked with an edge to her voice.

“No, not particularly,” Erik shrugged, “That whole thing is stupid anyways. So you’re tall and have horns. So what?”

“So you have no problems working with me? None at all?” Herah asked.

“Nope. You’re a person. That’s the end of it in my eyes. I only have a problem if you suck at your job or you’re an asshole.”

The Kossith woman studied Erik for a second before letting out a toothy laugh.

“You may have a problem with the second one, I’m afraid,” she joked.

“It’s okay. I’m an asshole, too,” he turned to face where the company of soldiers he’d been assigned was training and mingling.

“Get some rest! We ride at dawn, bitches!”

Erik rose long before dawn the next day to find Leliana and Cullen standing with his company of soldiers and another he knew was for Evelyn. He approached the two advisors as he checked his rifle to ensure everything worked.

“Harding will meet you near Therinfal, about a mile off the road to the fortress,” Leliana said without greeting.

“When the fortress is cleared, send word back to us.,” Cullen added, “We’ll be waiting for a message, so send it straight away, if you can.”

“Will do,” Erik nodded, “I’ll bring back as many Templars as I can.” A tap on his shoulder made him turn slightly, and he found Sera, armed and ready for combat.

“Mind if I come with? I don’t really wanna go with Glowy and deal with all that weird magicky shite,” Sera asked.

“Sure, if you don’t mind possibly shooting a demon in the face when we get there.”

“Good. Fuckers need to die,” she giggled before marching over to Erik’s group. He began to say his farewells to the two Advisors, but a voice stopped him.

“Erik!”

He turned to find Evelyn, Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian approaching him. The Herald adjusted the grip on her staff as she approached and stood awkwardly before him.

“So I guess this is it, huh? We both have jobs to do,” she smiled wearily.

Erik gave a tight smile back, a tight lump in his throat. “Yep, this is it.”

The mage threw her arms around Erik, hugging him in a surprisingly tight grip. He returned the gesture and gave a soft squeeze.

“Remember, don’t ever lose hope, and trust Dorian with your life,” he whispered. He felt Evelyn nod against his shoulder before she pulled away.

“Come back safe, okay?” she said in a shaky voice, her eyes glassy. The lump in his throat was even more constricting, now.

“I promise if you promise.”

“Good. I promise, then.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but her eyes became more watery and she left without another word and marched toward her group of soldiers. Erik wiped a smattering of a tear from his eye and turned back to Leliana and Cullen.

“Good luck, Champion,” Cullen offered as the two men shook hands.

“I don’t need luck. I have ammo,” he joked, trying to release some of the tension in the air. Erik looked at Leliana and tried to say something, but he found he didn’t have anything to say. He gave her a gentle hug instead and strode over to his mount and company.

“You ready?” Herah asked as they both mounted their horses, the Qunari’s being almost the size of a draft horse.

“Let’s go ruin a demon’s day,” he smiled, pushing all emotion out of his body. He watched as Adaar did the same as she turned her head toward the company of soldiers forming up behind them.

“LET’S MARCH!” Herah boomed. And they were off to Therinfal Redoubt.

The march was long and slow, and Erik’s inner thighs soon began to scream at him in protest atop Isaac, so he dismounted and walked alongside the horse instead. He didn’t speak to the soldiers all too much, only enough to demystify himself and make them realize they were working for a person. He didn’t want to become attached to anyone that might be dead after the raid; it was a lesson he learned the hard way on his second deployment.

He didn’t speak to Adaar much, either, only going over what was necessary in terms of planning. It went this way for seven days and six nights. On the seventh night, they approached where Leliana said Harding would meet them. It took nearly an hour to find the dwarf, and when they did it looked as though Harding was expecting them, a worried look plastered on her face.

“It’s good you’re here,” Harding greeted, “The situation is bad.”

“We moved as fast as we could, Lace,” Erik apologized. He really did not like the worry on her face.

“What’s the situation?” Herah asked as she sat down. A wise choice, considering Harding reached just past Adaar’s navel if they were standing next to each other.

“Templar units have been quietly cycling in and out for the last week, and probably before that. They all head into the Kocari Wilds, and we can’t follow them in because of the Blight in the soil,” Harding began, “The leadership hasn’t left since the Lord Seeker - or Envy, rather - brought them here. We believe the Templars are being fed red lyrium and then sent out in company to battalion sized elements for some purpose.”

“How many Templars have been cycled through?” Erik asked.

“We did the math. If it holds up, nearly every Templar from the Orlesian and Fereldan Circles has been fed red lyrium, and half from the Free Marches. We don’t know if they’ve gotten to the Antivans or the Nevarrans yet, and we haven’t heard anything about Templars from the Hossberg Circle.”

“Maker hopes we can stop that before it happens,” Herah growled, “Is there anything else we should know?”

“Two more things. The last group in the fortress numbers some fifteen hundred, but they began to leave to the south about a day ago. We estimate that by now about half have been fed red lyrium. They’re a mix from the Markham, Ghislain, Jainen, and Ansburg Circles, about a quarter from each. Their Knight-Commanders are no longer here, and without them, the eight hundred that are left are beginning to question their orders.”

“And the other thing?” Erik asked.

“One of our scouts was kidnapped by the Templars yesterday,” Harding admitted, “A young man named Mercier, from Val Chevin. I don’t know if he’s still alive, but…”

“They know we’re coming,” Erik finished. He turned to Herah.

“Should we just breach the fortress and assault?” she asked.

“No. There still may be hundreds of Red Templars inside,” Erik decided. He knew there would be issues, but their element of surprise was taken from them.

“Red Templars?” Harding asked.

“They’re Templars and they use red lyrium. Might as well call them something to differentiate them.”

“So what’s the plan?” Herah asked, “Still the same?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the best course of action,” he agreed, “Get over the walls, and as soon as our presence is notified, go loud. Let’s go notify the company.”

They jogged back over to where the company was resting and briefed the situation.

“Listen up. One of our scouts was captured and his current status is unknown. Our primary objective is still the same. Kill anything that’s on red lyrium, assassinate the envy demon impersonating the Lord Seeker, and get everything else out if you can. If the scout and the Knight-Vigilant are still alive, find them. Any intel we can get from the fortress is coming with us.”

“How will we know who is on the red stuff?” Sera asked as she counted the arrows in her quiver.

“Trust me Sera. You’ll know,” Erik responded. He’d only seen a Red Templar on a computer screen. He was not looking forward to the real thing.

Harding’s scouts brought several ladders in smaller pieces to scale the walls with, which the company took readily. Erik took some normal face paint from Herah, and he painted his face in earthly colors while Herah coated her exposed skin in a darker-colored vitaar. It was intriguing to watch the Vashoth paint herself in ceremonial but practical colors, Erik had to admit, and for a brief moment he wished the war paint the woman donned wouldn’t kill him; from what he’d understood form the games, vitaar was hard as steel when struck, but it was poisonous to all but Qunari. They gathered the company and they quickly and silently divided themselves into their designated platoons and advanced on Therinfal.

As they approached, Erik noticed a handful of figures roaming the battlements of the fortress. No doubt his rifle could take them out, but the noise would alert everyone in Therinfal, and he wasn’t prepared to go loud. Not until they were within the walls and had a foothold. He silently motioned for Sera and a Dalish man whose name he’d forgotten. They moved on swift and silent feet toward their position and Erik pointed them out.

“I see four Blighters on this wall,” Sera whispered after a moment, her eyesight vastly superior to Erik’s.

“Five. One shem just came out the guard tower,” the Dalish man added. Erik nodded and motioned for the archers and arbalists to move into position. Herah gave the signal, and their ranged fighters moved up. After a silent three-count, arrows and bolts were loosed, and Erik saw each of the figures stiffen in shock and pain before either falling back onto the walkway or forward into the ravine below.

“The front gate should have been the most heavily defended. Move up,” Herah ordered, preparing to give her signal to her platoon’s leaders. A hand on the Qunari’s shoulder stopped her.

“Wait. Two more fuckers in the arrow slits. By the gatehouse,” the Dalish man hissed. Erik squinted and realized the elf was right. The two remaining Red Templars standing guard seemed undisturbed by the deaths of their comrades’ deaths, standing almost deathly still in their positions. Herah motioned for two more arrows to be fired, and after a nod from both Sera and the Dalish man, they prepared to move forward.

Were this Earth, he would have probably just used a halligan to breach the gates, as charges were too loud and would give away their position. But this wasn't Earth, this was Thedas. So his soldiers silently assembled the ladders and rested them against the stonework before scaling the walls. As soon as the first Inquisition members were on the battlements, they dropped low and readied their weapons, some readying arrows and bolts while others drawing blades. Erik, Herah, Sera and the Dalish man scaled last, with Erik racking his rifle in silence as soon as he set foot on the battlements. Archers and arbalists stacked themselves against the doors before breaching into the guardhouses, and Erik heard the telltale _twang_ of drawstrings being loosed. He moved into the right tower with the Dalish man while Sera and Adaar moved into the left after a squad. The room was clear, as were the lower floors, so they moved on.

“Can see what the fuck you meant when you said we’d know the Red fuckers from the good ones, Champion,” a woman murmured in an Orlesian accent as she stacked up for the next room on the battlements. Erik didn’t respond, but the woman was right; the Red Templars were monstrous. The one he passed was hideously misshapen, with one arm larger than the other, an eye replaced by twisted crystalline structures, and his sword permanently fused with his right arm. What was worse, however, was the sound coming from the red lyrium. It was stronger now than at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, perhaps due to its concentration. He knew there was no real sound, but he could hear it in his head nonetheless. It sounded like a siren call written by a madman in prison. It was twisted, horrendous, yet somehow alluring. Erik pushed the thought from his mind and moved down a staircase that led to the outer courtyard, becoming the first man in a stack of four as he held his ready at the high ready

The offworlder spotted Sera and Adaar behind her. He felt the Dalish man’s nudge informing him the stack was ready, and he gave Sera a nod before they moved into the courtyard. After a quick sweep of the open space, three arrows and two bolts were loosed from both stacks, dropping three Red Templars where they stood. He gave a silent signal to consolidate in a dark corner, and he was met by Sera, Adaar, the Dalish man, two humans, and a Dwarf.

“Let your people know the Red Templars’ armor is weak at the underarm, the neck, and the groin,” he ordered quietly, “Tell them to aim there.” The six nodded and moved back to their subordinates.

He found himself the fourth man in a stack behind Sera, the Dalish man, and Herah, who was wielding a massive longbow that looked normal-sized on her huge frame. They moved up the stairs in two separate formations and moved into another courtyard, only to find it deserted. A platoon followed them in, with the three others moving along the battlements silently. As Erik counted, they’d taken out thirty-seven Red Templars so far. Therinfal Redoubt wasn’t that big. Where were the rest?

Thirty soldiers glided through the secondary courtyard, stacking up against doors and moving in with brutal efficiency. Erik had to admit, Cullen had chosen well for this mission. They hadn’t yet been met with heavy resistance, and the men and women were moving swiftly and adapting quickly to the new environment. So far, so good.

He spotted a door he recognized as the one where the Knight-Vigilant’s body was being held, and he motioned for three others to join him. They lined up, and the last man, a tall man Erik had seen around a handful of times, moved to center himself against the door and kicked it in with force.

He swiftly moved in and button-hooked against the wall, clearing his corners before moving along the wall. A young woman armed with a crossbow moved to clear behind the single desk in the room and froze.

“Champion, you should see this,” she murmured. Erik trotted over and eyed what the woman had seen, freezing in his tracks.

An older man, perhaps in his mid-fifties, lay on the ground, unconscious and bleeding profusely. Erik didn’t recognize the sigil on the man’s cowl, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the dying man he eyed was Knight-Vigilant Trentwatch.

The man was in the worst shape Erik had seen in years. His intestines stuck out of his gut in three places, and a pool of blood as wide as Erik’s wingspan lay under him. One eye was gouged out and lying two paces from the man’s head, seemingly flattened by a boot but still connected by viscera. The Knight-Vigilant’s jaw was shattered, his right leg was twisted the wrong way at the knee, and his left shoulder stuck out of its socket, protruding from the bulk of cloth covering his upper half by a good four inches. It was a miracle the man was still alive.

“Broken, bleeding, unable to move. The Knight-Captain claimed he had a report on the heretics’ movements. He lied. The Knight-Vigilant knew he was lying. Beaten beyond belief, tormented, until finally Denam gave the gift of peace. But not a smooth peace. The pain dragged out, the red dagger in his belly still burns, he can hear its call, loud, too loud… Dead.” Erik heard an ethereal voice by his left shoulder.

“Hello, Cole,” Erik sighed wearily as he watched the eviscerated Knight-Vigilant take his final breaths in pain.

“You know me but.. I don’t know you,” the spirit murmured, “So quiet, like a whisper on a windy day. Why are you so quiet?”

“I’m not from here, Cole,” he explained quietly; he could see the three other soldiers staring at the pair in shock.

“You’re connected, but you dream in your own head. You know the future, but you try to make the worst of it less painful. Like you are now. I like that,” the spirit boy rambled, “Why do you hurt? So much pain, in the body and in the heart.”

“Now isn’t the time to discuss that, kid,” Erik grunted as he rose from his knees before turning to the soldiers, “When we’re done here, burn the body. He’s been infected with red lyrium.”

“You’re trying to help the Templars here. I can help,” Cole offered.

“Good. Can you tell me how many Red Templars there are in the fortress?” he asked in a quiet tone.

“Hundreds, but less every time I look. They’re twisted. Their minds are not their own, not themselves anymore; the song is too loud for them to hear their own thoughts, and now instinct has taken hold.”

The Red Templars were basically animals. Good. “Can you tell me where Envy is?”

“By the main hall, he’s waiting for someone more interesting than the Lord Seeker. Such a boring form, he says. He wants something more substantial. The Lord Seeker’s place is no longer one he envies.”

“You three, come with me,” he snapped, “Cole, you follow, too. Keep Envy out of our heads.” The spirit boy nodded enthusiastically, seemingly just happy to help.

Erik passed Adaar and Sera on the way up toward the main hall. 

“The Knight-Vigilant is dead,” he informed them, “I’m going after Envy before things get out of hand.” Erik felt Sera follow his team toward the hall.

“‘He’s close now,” Cole warned, “Envy can feel you. So different, unique in this world. Looked highly upon by his friends, his allies. He thinks your form will do nicely. Your skin will be more comfortable.”

“No, it wont,” Erik murmured grimly. His team climbed the stairs in trained silence, bow, crossbow, blade and rifle at the ready. They crested the last step where Envy would normally be in the game, and Erik tensed slightly as he prepared to fire a shot.

The Lord Seeker rounded a corner behind a statue and eyed Erik. The facsimile of a human’s eyes shimmered with surprise and twisted glee, and its smile became more and more unnatural. It stepped forward once, twice, and began moving unnaturally quickly.

Just as it lunged forward to grab him, Erik squeezed the trigger. Three bullets met the demon’s head as a crossbow bolt and an arrow met its torso, and it fell to the ground in a freakish shriek. It writhed on the ground, the false image of the man it impersonated falling away. Envy’s limbs elongated and cracked, and its false hair receded into its head as Erik spied what appeared to be stitches all over its body as the monstrosity’s skin paled.

On and on it went, the shrieks and distortions, and Erik began emptying his magazine into the fiend as his allies loosed bolt after bolt and arrow after arrow into the demon. It began dragging itself toward Erik with a pathetic whimpering sound, and the warrior in his team ran up and drove her blade through its skull, stilling its movements as it slowly withered away.

“Dead,” Cole confirmed. Erik swore. If the Red Templars didn’t hear his gunshots, they definitely heard Envy’s shrieks of pain.

As if on cue, he heard several bestial screams and roars echo from around the fortress, followed by the sound of metal clanking on stone.

“They know we’re here! Go loud! Kill everything that’s Red!” he shouted as he loaded a fresh magazine and moved away from the four others following him.

Pandemonium reigned. Twisted and tainted lifeforms were everywhere, the red lyrium corrupting them so deeply that they could barely be recognized as people. Erik threw caution to the wind and began firing at anything that didn’t look remotely normal. Tainted blood spilled everywhere, its corruption intoxicating and nauseating. The screams of battle and the clash of metal filled the air as his soldiers engaged the corrupted lifeforms. He dove behind cover as an archer loosed an arrow just past his ear and he dropped the monster that had threatened his life with a well-placed shot that spit its head like a canoe. Out of the corner of his eye Erik spotted Cole slit a Red Templar’s throat as Herah drew her massive greatsword from her back and cleaved through the Blighted creatures without any care for her own life.

He kicked another door open and was met with a blade made purely of red lyrium. He watched it pass by his nose and heard its whispering lies as it did.

_No more pain, no more sorrow, no more nightmares, only the song, join us, one with the song, give up, join us, one with the song, give up, give up…_

Erik pushed the chant from his mind and fired six rounds into the beast’s chest and stepped over its stilled form, only to be met with a hulking monstrosity taller than anything he’d ever seen. He immediately recognized the Behemoth, but it was far worse in reality. It moved like a marionette on frayed strings, one clubbed arm dragging behind it as it let out bellows of agony. It spotted the offworlder and let out a roar of anguished rage, lumbering toward him.

For the first time in years, Erik was stunned into stillness in combat. Then the Behemoth raised its clubbed arm and he came to his senses, diving out of the way of the toxic being’s attack. The stone where he stood shattered and he landed on one shoulder as he fired four times into the Behemoth’s midsection. It roared in shock and staggered back slightly, and Erik lined up a fifth shot to find his magazine was dry. Cursing, he quickly scrambled to his feet and dropped the rifle from his hands, letting its sling drag it around his frame toward its back as he drew his blades. He slashed at the monster’s legs and knees, feeling the crunch of soft crystal beneath his weapons as he swung with reckless abandon. He distantly noticed two others doing the same on the other side and back before Cole suddenly appeared and expressionlessly drew his daggers across the back of its thighs, hamstringing it. The Behemoth fell to its knees and growled once more, still dragging its now prostrate form toward anything not tainted by the red lyrium’s song.

Then a primal grunt emitted from his right, followed by a sickening _thunk_ , and the beast stopped moving. Herah was struggling to pull her greatsword from where she had driven it deep into the Behemoth’s head, cleaving what was left of its skull in half. She finally pulled it from the dead creature with one final huff before leaning against the wall in exhaustion.

“Thanks,” Erik panted as he threw himself on the stones next to the Vashoth.

“Don’t mention it,” she breathed in response. A bout of silence followed.

“We’ve cleared most of the fort. From what we can tell, most of the Red Templars marched south out of the fort when we were moving in,” she briefed between breaths.

“How many did we lose?” Erik asked.

“Thirteen,” he heard Sera respond as she squatted down to check the exhausted duo over, “Was twelve, but that big fuck there got one of ‘em through the chest before you brought it down.”

“Fuck,” Erik cursed. Still, thirteen for such a high-risk operation in this sort of warfare was better than he’d feared.

“We’ll see that they’re laid to rest with full honors,” Herah offered weakly.

“More than full honors,” Erik grunted as he stood, his bad left knee screaming in pain as the adrenaline of combat wore off. He limped lightly through the halls of tainted blood, the song of red lyrium humming softly in the back of his head, stronger now that it was everywhere. The Dalish archer he’d entered the compound with trotted up to him, grime and dirt caking his face and hair.

“Champion, we’ve found the untainted Templars,” the young man declared, “They holed themselves up in the lower floors, near the dungeons.”

“Take me there.”

They flung themselves down a spiral staircase into a dank and dimly lit hallway lined by exhausted fighters. Erik grabbed a torch from a sconce as he followed the thin elf through the corridor and into a large undercroft.

Inside, hundreds of men and women in beaten and broken armor were huddled everywhere, some standing, some hunched in corners whispering, some asleep after their harrowing experience. All looked far worse for wear than Erik had expected.

“Where’s your leader?” Erik called out with authority.

“Here!” a rich but weak voice responded. A dark skinned Templar limped himself toward the offworlder, and Erik immediately recognized him as Barris. He’d lost a significant amount of weight; his cheeks were hollow, his face too sharp, and his beard was scruffy and unkempt.

“You… I remember you!” Barris coughed, “From Val Royeaux. You’re the one they call the Champion of Andraste.”

“I am. Erik Andersen. You’re Knight-Templar Delrin Barris, correct?”

Barris’s dark amber eyes widened slightly. “How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things,” Erik dismissed, “Is this all of you?”

Barris shook his head. “We moved the more able-bodied to the courtyard. These are the ones who were too weak to climb the stairs. I stayed behind with them.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Four hundred, Your Worship.” Erik blinked in shock and set the torch down in an open sconce.

“That’s it?”

“There were more, but the rest were fed the red lyrium earlier today,” Barris explained, “We had to put a couple out of their misery when they started… when they started changing. As far as I know, the only whole Templar chapters left in Thedas are Cumberland and Hossberg. Do you know what became of them?”

Erik grunted in frustration. “No, but I can find out,” he paused, looking around, “We were told that one of our scouts was captured before we started our raid. Do you know where he’s being held?”

“He’s gone, Your Worship. Passed away this afternoon. His body is in there,” Barris motioned to a closed door, “But I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. It’s gruesome.”

“I’ve seen worse, Knight-Templar. We need to recover his remains regardless,” Erik shrugged off as he grabbed the torch and moved to open the door. He was met with a full-blown medieval torture chamber, and bound to a torture rack in the center of the room was the body of a man.

Erik had certainly seen worse, but not by much. The man had been completely flayed alive, his skin tossed unceremoniously in a corner like a dirty cloth. A bowl full of teeth and nails sat on a table nearby, as well as both eyes, several toes, and ten fingers. As he inspected the discarded skin, Erik noticed several boils and burns, all relatively fresh.

“He never said a word, Champion. Not a word,” Barris offered. Erik turned to a pair of shocked soldiers.

“Wrap the body in cloth and get it out of here. He’s coming back to Haven with us,” he ordered. The two soldiers shook themselves out of their stupor and moved to execute their commands.

“Start moving your people out of Therinfal, Barris. We’re getting y’all out of here,” Erik said softly.

“But Champion, there’s less than a tenth of the Templar Order remaining,” Barris pointed out as they moved from the torture chamber, “We’re leaderless, gutted by betrayal from those we trusted. There aren’t enough to rebuild, not like it was before.”

Erik thought in absolute silence for a very long time. “There are still people to protect,” Erik declared as authoritatively as possible, “The Herald of Andraste is seeking to rescue the mages from the clutches of a Magister as we speak, and they will need protection as well. Oaths can be maintained even without an Order to bind them. If you can’t rebuild, join us. Join the Inquisition, and fulfill your duty as the champions of the just by protecting the innocent from the Breach and threats the future may yet hold.”

Erik gazed around the dank undercroft. Those who could stand began to rise, and those who couldn’t sat straighter. Barris looked around and nodded.

“Very well,” the young Templar bowed his head, placing a fist over his heart, “The Templar Order may be broken beyond repair, but we will still fulfill our purpose. Our oaths to protect will remain intact. We will join the Inquisition and see the Breach sealed.”

Erik nodded once and gently clapped the soldier on his pauldron. “See your Templars, Barris. Get everyone out of the fortress and ready to move.” He turned and left the grim dungeons.

Herah and the Dalish elf approached him almost immediately, dragging a man with mousy brown hair behind them, who Erik assumed was Denam. Adaar’s face was stony, only a hint of fury showing underneath, while the Dalish elf showed unbridled rage.

“Lavellan and I found this piece of waste trying to flee the Redoubt with the rest of the Red Templars,” Adaar grunted, “From the documents we’ve recovered, it looks like he’s the one who killed the Knight-Vigilant and ordered the Templars begin taking Red Lyrium.” She threw the man at Erik’s feet, and the offworlder blinked in surprise. The elf was Lavellan? How many of the potential Inquisitors survived?

He pushed the thought out of his mind and kneeled down to face the sorry form of Knight-Captain Denam.

“We also found information regarding a demon army, an assassination plot against Empress Celene, and someone known as the ‘Elder One’,” Lavellan added.

“I know,” Erik whispered grimly as he grabbed Denam’s filthy hair, forcing the man to look at him.

“Well, well. Knight-Captain Denam. Congratulations. You destroyed the Templar Order,” Erik sniped. The traitor laughed and spat out a tooth.

“It matters not. The Elder One got his Red Templars. His will will soon cover the world,” Denam laughed.

Erik was silent for a moment. “No, it won’t,” he finally said, slamming the man’s head against the limestone floor and knocking him unconscious.

“Make sure he comes with us back to Haven. He has the destruction of a thousand-year-old order to answer for. Once everyone is out and we have everything we need, burn this place. We can’t risk the red lyrium spreading,” Erik ordered. Addar nodded and slung the unconscious Denam over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Lavellan quickly following behind her.

As soon as Sera had led the last of the Templars out of Therinfal Redoubt, the fortress was set ablaze. Erik watched the fire rise higher and higher into the sky as the sun rose, an exhausted company of Inquisition behind him as they tended to wounded Templars. He’d already told Harding to send his message to Haven: the Templar Order was destroyed, and the Red Templars had gone to the Elder One.

Four hundred and eleven. That was all that was left of the Templar Order. Some of the wounded Templars would probably not make it to sunset if they didn’t receive medical attention. _They need help if they’re going to survive_ , he thought glumly.

“Help. That is something I can do,” Cole whispered softly as the spirit suddenly appeared beside Erik.

“Hey, Cole,” Erik sighed.

“You’re sad. Why are you sad? You helped these people. They would have been force-fed the red if you didn’t come.”

“Because the Templar Order is gone, Cole. The Elder One has his Red Templars,” Erik explained. He had his army, even if there was a tiny morsel less for Corypheus to feed from than he would have had. He knew he couldn’t get them all, but they should have moved faster. They should have been more aggressive. He should have asked for a larger force, he should have -

“Yes. The Red Templars gave themselves to the Elder One.They’re sworn to the dark. But their oath still remains. It’s standing right behind you. You helped them, and now they can help others. A little light in the dark will banish the night, bit by bit. You helped do that, and I can help them survive to help others.” The spirit boy vanished from Erik’s sight, off to do Maker knows what to help.

Black smoke kept rising from Therinfal Redoubt, and the smell of charred skin and burning stone filled the air as Erik watched, unable to look away. He refused to look away. He had to watch the Templar Order go up with the smoke, because he’d failed. Barris moved to his side, his eyes filled with unshed tears as he watched the organization that was his life crumble to dust. Still, he stood straight and proud, even as battered and beaten as the younger man was.

Maybe Cole was right. Even if it was a little bit, he’d still helped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was 8230 words, so it's the longest one I've written so far. I don't know how I did with it.
> 
> I think ~400 Templars is a reasonable number. The Chantry controlled fifteen Circles before the Mage Rebellion (would have been sixteen but Dairsmuid was annulled and they weren't really in control anyways). I'd assume at least a battalion's worth of Templars were stationed at each Circle, which are implied to be much larger than in the game, from what I understand. A battalion is anywhere from 700-1000 soldiers. That would mean that there are 15,000 Templars scattered throughout the Chantry-controlled Circles, which would be similar in size to the force that attacks Haven during IYHSB if you recruit the Mages.
> 
> Title comes from Sworn to the Dark by Watain - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HTzBxZyhq0  
> For any of you who may be religious, fair warning, these guys are full-blown, Anti-Cosmic Satanists. They write some of the darkest music in the world. I myself am not a Satanist, I just think their music rips. The next chapter will be similarly dark (we'll see Evelyn's field trip through time) so this pair of chapters will both be named after black metal songs.
> 
> Thank you for reading. It really does mean a lot that it's not getting completely eviscerated... yet ;)


	14. Withstand the Fall of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn is shown a horrible future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, characters, in-game dialogue, and the world are owned by Bioware & EA.
> 
> Warning: brief mention of attempted rape

"The Magister's invitation was for Senior Enchanter Trevelyan alone. The rest will wait here."

Evelyn shook her head and crossed her arms. “They come with me or I leave,” she told the guard resolutely.

After a moment, the man acquiesced, letting the four of them enter the hall. Alexius sat on the Arl’s throne, a mocking imitation of the man who should have been sitting there.

"My lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived," the guard announced.

Alexius was as cheery as before. "My friend. It's so good to see you again," he faltered when he saw the other three with Evelyn, "And your associates, of course. I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."

“Let’s hope so,” she agreed.

Fiona spoke up, alerting them to her presence. "Are we Mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"

"Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives," the Magister patronized.

Evelyn shifted her weight. "If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition."

“Thank you,” the Grand Enchanter nodded.

Alexius inclined his head in agreement and leaned back on the throne. "So, the Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?"

Evelyn dropped all pretense of amicability and blew the doors wide open. "I'd much rather discuss this new branch of magic you’ve discovered. Time magic, right?" Alexius’s eyes widened in shock.

"Now, how could you know about that?”

“I told her,” Felix spoke up.

"Felix, what have you done?" the Magister asked, truly sounding hurt.

"Your son is concerned that you're involved in something terrible. A supremacist cult,” Evelyn explained coldly.

"So speaks the thief," his voice became icy, "Do you think you can turn my son against me? You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark - a gift you don't even understand - and think you're in control? You're nothing but a mistake."

“What do you know about Divine Justinia’s death?”

Alexius stood. "It was the Elder One's moment, and you were unworthy even to stand in his presence."

"Father, listen to yourself," Felix pleaded, "Do you know what you sound like?"

"He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be." Dorian joined in.

"Dorian," Alexius chastised, "I gave you a chance to be part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

“And now we get to the crux of the issue. Tell me about this ‘Elder One’,” Evelyn demanded.

"Soon he will become a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas,” he spoke down to the Marcher like she were an ant, grating at her pride.

"You can't bring my people into this,” Fiona shouted, her voice filled with desperation.

Dorian spoke again. "Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen. Why would you support this?"

Felix approached his father. "Stop it, Father. Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home."

The Magister turned to his son, sorrow filling his eyes. "No. It's the only way, Felix. He can _save_ you."

“Save me?

"There is a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple..." 

“I’m going to die, Father. You need to accept that.” It was a sad scene to witness, but it didn’t last.

“Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this man’s head!”

At that exact moment Leliana’s agents struck. All at once, the Tevinter guards collapsed dead, our forces stepping out of the shadows.

Evelyn raised her hands toward the Inquisition agents. “Your men are dead, Alexius.”

Rage flooded Alexius’s face. "You… are a mistake. You should never have existed." 

He held a cubical amulet aloft, flooding it with magic. A cascade of energy flooded the room, concentrating itself into a swirling mass. Evelyn’s heart jumped into her throat, Erik’s warnings suddenly fresh in her mind.

 _Remember, don’t ever lose hope, and trust Dorian with your life_.

"No!" Dorian stepped forward and raised his staff, grabbing Evelyn’s arm and releasing a burst of magic. She felt a tug behind her navel, a sudden wave of vertigo, and then she was falling in darkness.

“Blood of the Elder One!”

Evelyn’s eyes shot open. She was standing ankle-deep in water, facing two guards in a locked cell. She slammed one against the wall with all the magical force she could muster, cracking the stone and hearing the man’s spine crumple. Dorian twirled his staff and burned the second man alive. Her eyes darted around the room as adrenaline and more than a bit of nausea filled her. Where was she? Was this what Erik had meant when he’d said to trust Dorian?

Dorian stared at the bodies and furrowed his brow in thought. "Displacement? Interesting. It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us… to where? The closest confluence of arcane energy?"

Where? She’d never heard of true teleportation. The amount of energy required for such a spell would be too much. But time magic, on the other hand...

“Not where.”

The Tevinter blinked and then widened his eyes in realization. "Oh. Of course! It's not simply where - it's when," Dorian exclaimed, "Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time."

Well, then. Things had certainly taken an unexpected turn. “Forward or back, you think?”

"Excellent question. We'll have to find out, won't we? Let's look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back... if we can."

Evelyn nodded and approached the door to the cell, only to find that it was locked.

“You’ll need a key, you know,” Dorian jabbed behind her, “One of these two dolts should have it…”

They found the key quickly and opened the door, rushing out into the dank hallways.

The duo made our way through the dungeons. “So. Any clue on what Alexius was trying to do?” Evelyn asked as she tried to keep her focus on getting out of the dungeons.

"I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely,” Dorian postulated, “If that happened, you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled his Elder One's plan. I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it, the magic went wild, and here we are. Make sense?"

“Perfect sense.”

“I knew I liked you,” Dorian laughed.

"There were others in the hall. Could they have been drawn through?" Evelyn asked as she remembered Varric’s and Cassandra’s presences when they’d confronted Alexius.

"I doubt it was large enough to bring the whole room through,” Dorian shook his head, "Alexius wouldn't risk catching himself or Felix in it. They're probably still where, and when, we left them. In some sense, anyway."

“Well then that’s our first priority. Finding our friends, if they’re here.”

They discussed the plan quietly as the mages made their way through the castle and cut down Venatori. Eventually they reached another cell block. The door was ajar, and Evelyn pushed through it.

She found the sickening glow of red lyrium everywhere. In the corners, in barrels, on the walls - no, _growing_ out of the walls, she realized. Erik’s warning not to touch anything directly came flooding back. The handful of cells in the room were the only things not corrupted with the stuff. In one of the darkened enclosures she eyed a figure huddled in the corner, murmuring something under her breath - the Chant of Light.

“Cassandra?” Evelyn asked as she trotted toward the cell door. The woman immediately stopped her murmurings and snapped her head up, eyes wide.

It was certainly Cassandra, but she looked far worse for wear. The Nevarran looked as though she’d aged years, with smatterings of grey streaked through her horribly shaggy and matted brown hair. The woman’s eyes were sunken and hollow, one of them bruised, and an eerie red glow was slightly emanating from within. She looked much thinner than before, as well - not skeletal, but certainly emaciated.

“You’ve returned to us!” Cassandra gasped with wide eyes and a shocked face. Evelyn grabbed the keys they’d looted from the first guards and unlocked the door quickly.

“Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?” the Seeker continued as Evelyn and Dorian stepped into the cell.

“It’s really me, Cassandra,” Evelyn gently responded as she helped the woman to her feet. Cassandra immediately threw her arms around Evelyn in a surprisingly strong hug.

“Maker forgive me… I failed you. I failed everyone,” Cassandra cried as she broke the embrace, “The end must truly be upon us, if the dead can return to life.”

“We never died, Cassandra,” Evelyn tried to explain.

“I… what? I was _there_. The Magister obliterated you both with a gesture,” the Right Hand stammered.

"The spell Alexius cast sent us forward in time," Dorian explained, "We just got here, so to speak, and if we find him, we may be able to return to the present."

“Go back in time?” she thought aloud, “Then... can you make it so that none of this ever took place?”

“If Dorian is right and we can actually _reverse_ the spell, then yes,” Evelyn offered.

“None of this would happen…” Cassandra whispered as tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, “Andraste, please let that be true.”

Evelyn had never heard Cassandra sound so desperate. “What happened since our confrontation with Alexius?”

“It is far worse than you could possibly imagine,” the Seeker began, “Alexius served a master, the Elder One. He reigns now, unchallenged. His minions assassinated Empress Celene and used the ensuing chaos to invade the south. This Elder One commands an army of demons. After you stop Alexius, you must prepare the Inquisition. Speak with the Champion. See what he knows of this."

“Is Erik here?” Evelyn asked, some twisted hope growing within her that maybe she would see him and he could explain all this.

Cassandra sorrowfully shook her head. “Do you see my eyes? It is red lyrium. They have been feeding it to us. It… corrupts you. Changes you. It grows inside you, turns you into red lyrium. Even now, I can feel it inside me. But Erik was immune to its effects. Perhaps it is because of the nature of his homeworld; I cannot say. They tortured him and Leliana for information longer than anyone could possibly endure. He never broke. They killed him just a few weeks ago when he broke free of his restraints and killed an interrogator that tried to force himself on Leliana.”

Evelyn’s stomach churned at Cassandra’s description of what had happened. She knew the Seeker was withholding the more gruesome details, but for that to have happened…

“The Magister has locked himself in the throne room,” the Nevarran spat venomously, “He has not moved in months. I assume he would still be there.”

Evelyn, Dorian, and Cassandra continued on through the dungeons beneath Redcliffe, mercilessly killing any Venatori they saw. Cassandra had scavenged a sword from one of the dead and fought alongside them silently, even in her weakened state. Finally they came upon another holding chamber and Evelyn spied a familiar-looking dwarf.

"Andraste's sacred knickers! You're alive?" Varric shot to his feet. He looked far healthier than Cassandra, despite the red glow and similarly battered face. "Where were you? How did you escape?"

“We didn't escape," Dorian said. "Alexius sent us into the future."

“We’re going to go find him, then return to our own time and fix everything that happened,” Evelyn explained as she freed the Kirkwaller.

“Well, count me in!” Varric said without need of any more explanation. He rushed out of his cell, grabbing a pair of daggers from a barrel in the corner; it looked odd to see him without Bianca, and for some reason Evelyn became more depressed with the state of the world they’d stumbled into.

“You want me to tell you something, Herald?” Varric quipped as he adjusted his grip on the daggers, “Everything that happens to you is weird.” Before she could respond, a weak groan echoed from another cell. Evelyn ran over to see what had caused the noise and stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide in horror and her stomach threatening to boil over.

Grand Enchanter Fiona was in the cell. Her entire lower half was covered in red lyrium, and her right arm had begun to sprout crystals. Her left eye had been replaced with the horrible substance, and she was emaciated. 

“Fiona! What happened to you?”

Fiona explained what Cassandra had: that when you are fed red lyrium, your body eventually becomes it. Evelyn knew that her companions would share the same fate as Fiona, eventually.

“We need to know the date. Can you tell us?” Dorian asked.

“...Harvestmere. 9:42 Dragon.”

“9:42? That’s a whole year!”

“We really need to get back to our time,” Evelyn noted grimly.

“Can you?” Fiona asked weakly.

“I might be able to reverse the spell,” Dorian confirmed.

“... Good,” Fiona murmured.

“I said _might_ ,” he corrected with a grimace, “It might also turn us into paste.”

“You… must… try…” she weakly said, “Your spymaster, Leliana, is here. Find her quickly, before the Elder One… learns you’re here…” her upper body collapsed, and they turned from the gruesome scene.

After nearly an hour of wandering the castle, they eventually came to what appeared to be a torture block. Voices drifted through the door at the far end of the hall.

"How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the temple? Answer."

“Never,” came a weak reply. Leliana. It was followed by a bloodcurdling scream of pain. Evelyn’s heart dropped into her stomach as she sprinted after Dorian and Cassandra towards the door.

"There's no use to this defiance, little bird. There's no one left for you to protect."

“You’re wasting your breath,” came her reply. Fifteen feet.

“You will break.”

“I will die first,” came her reply as Cassandra firmly planted her boot on the door, sending it swinging into the room. Dorian stepped in and shot a bolt of ice at one of the torturers, sending him flying across the room. A splatter of blood covered the wall where he landed. Leliana was hung from the ceiling, her hands in chains and her body covered in rags. 

She looked the worst out of anyone by far. Where her other friends had aged years in the time she and Dorian had been gone, Leliana had aged decades. Pieces of her skin were missing from her face, and her cheeks had sunken to the bone. Streaks of grey filled her thinned red hair, and both eyes were black and bruised. A trickle of blood trickled from her torso, likely the wound that had caused the scream they’d heard.

“Or you will.” Leliana wrapped her legs around her tormentor, violently snapping his neck with a sickening _crunch_. Evelyn grabbed the key from her belt and released Leliana’s shackles. She collapsed with a grunt as Cassandra caught her.

“You’re alive,” she said, shocked.

“I am. You’re safe now,” Evelyn reassured her as she helped the Orlesian to her feet.

"Forget 'safe'. If you came back from the dead, you need to do better than 'safe'." Leliana's eyes glanced sorrowfully at a brutally broken corpse across the room. Erik’s corpse. Evelyn nearly cried as she tore her face from the sight of the dead man she considered a brother. 

"You need to end this. Do you have weapons?" Dorian tossed her a bow. "Good. The Magister's probably in his chambers."

“You… aren’t curious as to how we got here?” Dorian asked.

“No,” came the simple, brutal response.

"Alexius sent us into the future,” he explained anyways, “This. His victory, his Elder One - it was never meant to be."

“I’m so sorry,” Evelyn spoke in a hollow voice, “We’re going to reverse the spell and prevent this from ever happening.”

"And mages always wonder why people fear them. No one should have this power," she bitterly spat. The Bard’s torment had clearly changed her. The Leliana Evelyn knew was accepting of magic, even somewhat fascinated by it. Not hateful of it.

"It's dangerous and unpredictable,” Dorian admitted, “But before the Breach, nothing we did -"

"This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist," Leliana shouted. She looked ready to strike the Tevinter, "I suffered. The whole world suffered. Erik tried to lessen my pain, and he was bled to death for his act as I was forced to watch. Don’t you _dare_ act as if this wasn’t real." 

She stormed from the room, and Evelyn followed close behind, leaving Erik’s body behind as she remembered the man’s words about hope. She was trying desperately to follow them.

The five of them made it into the courtyard and Evelyn stopped to stare at the sky in abject horror. The Breach had completely filled the sky, crackling and seemingly tilting in a way that violated her mind. The Black City physically hung in the sky, a dark stain on an already ruined world.

“Used to be that only dwarves feared the sky,” Varric mused, “Now it’s just plain sense.”

They struck down hundreds more Venatori and abominations, the advice given to her echoing through her mind. _No hesitation_. Each of her strikes was more ferocious than the last, fueled by unbridled, inhuman wrath and malice. She didn’t feel herself tire as she felled her enemies, and each death she brought gave her a sick joy; the horrible people who had done this were dead by her hand, and it made her happy to know they probably died in fear.

They eventually reached a large set of important looking doors embedded with runes etched in red lyrium. It was clear it didn’t want to open but Evelyn wasn’t about to let that stop her crusade. She and Dorian struck simultaneously, bashing their combined magical strength fully into the door. The sealed and tainted monstrosity heaved under the force, then cracked and swung open.

Gereon Alexius waited on the other side, a horrible creature standing chained by the enthroned Magister. Evelyn had never seen a ghoul before, but she could somehow recognize one immediately. Its eyes were inky black, and flakes of skin had fallen off all over its body, revealing gangrenous and diseased muscle. Its complexion was a sickly grey, its lower lip was decaying, and its left leg was falling apart, ivory white bone peeking out from the diseased skin.

“Alexius! Look at what you’ve done,” Dorian shouted, the hurt in his words cutting through the air, “Was it worth it?”

Alexius’s shoulders slumped. "For my country, for my son… But it means nothing now. I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure."

"Was it worth it?" Dorian repeated, his voice full of hurt. "Everything you did to the world? To yourself?"

"It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end."

“What? What’s ending?” Evelyn asked with fury.

Alexius laughed bitterly. "The irony that you should appear _now_ , of all the possibilities. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all."

Leliana had moved silently through the shadows while the Tevinter mages confronted each other and grabbed the ghoul, placing a knife at its throat and glaring hatefully at Gereon.

"Felix!" Alexius cried, shooting from the throne with a look of horrible anticipation.

" _That's_ Felix?" Dorian’s voice was filled with horror and his hands balled in anger, "Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done?" Evelyn would have hurled on the spot in any other situation, but as it was it only served to fuel her anger further.

"He would have died, Dorian! I saved him." 

The Magister looked at Leliana with a pleading look. "Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask."

Evelyn pushed through the cloud of fury and sighed. It was painfully clear that the man was completely mad, so she decided to leverage the ghoul that had once been his son against the Magister. “Hand over the amulet and we’ll let him go.”

Alexius reached into his pocket. "Let him go, and I swear you'll get what you want."

“I want the world back,” Leliana snarled, drawing her blade across Felix’s throat. Black, blighted chunks of blood sputtered onto the floor as the hollow shell collapsed to the floor like a ragdoll.

Alexius dropped to his knees. Then his fists trembled in anger and he began to draw magic into him, preparing to strike.

He never got the chance. Dorian froze him in place, and Cassandra rushed forward and drove her sword through his chest, yanking the amulet from his hand and throwing it to Dorian.

Dorian caught the amulet and sighed wearily. "He wanted to die, didn't he?" Evelyn put her hand on Doran’s shoulder in comfort. "All those lies he told himself, the justifications… he lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh, Alexius..." his gaze fell on the ghoul that was Felix.

“I’m sorry. I know you cared for him,” Evelyn said softly.

"Once he was a man to whom I compared all others. Sad, isn't it?" He looked at the amulet in his hands, examining it for a moment.

"This is the same amulet he used before. I think it's the same one we made together in Minrathous. That's a relief, at least. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift,” he stepped away from the corpse of his mentor and began preparing the spell.

"An hour?" Leliana choked out. "That's impossible. You must go now!"

A unholy, spine-chilling screech filled the hall, freezing them all in shock and fear. 

"There's a reason they won," Varric looked at Evelyn.

“The Elder One,” Cassandra breathed.

Varric steeled his face and rolled his shoulders. "We'll go ahead, take out as many as we can. Leliana, you're the last line of defense. Give them what you've got."

Her dying companions turned and left the room, the door sealing shut behind them. She didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. Or thank them. They went to their deaths without question, sacrificing themselves so Evelyn, Dorian, and the world could get another chance.

"We'll make this count,” Dorian promised as the door closed. Leliana drew an arrow from her quiver. 

"The only way we live at all is if this day never comes. Cast your spell,” she snapped, “You have as much time as I have arrows."

Dorian began to work. “Don’t move more than five feet from me,” he ordered. Evelyn trusted the man and remained firmly in place.

She watched the amulet with bated breath as it floated in the air and began to glow. The din of combat and steel rang outside the hall for a few minutes, and then the door flung open. Dozens of Venatori and demons poured through the door; Varric’s body collapsed lifelessly to the floor, his throat slit by a Venatori. Cassandra’s remains were thrown aside by a terror demon and forgotten in a dark corner of the hall. Evelyn bit back the urge to scream at the loss of her friends as Leliana drew an arrow and spoke a prayer.

"Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame. Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side.”

Each arrow met its mark, dropping a soldier or a demon. Eventually, however, an arrow caught her in the shoulder. She screamed and broke the shaft off, striking a Venatori that had closed on her. Evelyn’s heart began to shatter as she took a step, but Dorian grabbed her arm firmly.

“You move, _and we all die!_ ” he shouted over the din of shrieking demons and combat. Evelyn abandoned her moral compass and watched in helpless dread as a terror demon grabbed Leliana and drove its taloned arm through her midsection, tearing her open with a disgusting squelch.

She and Dorian were suddenly snapped back to an untainted, well-lit throne room. No demons were storming the halls; her friends stood behind her, alive and well, looks of confusion and bewilderment adorned on their features. Alexius stood where he was when he threw the amulet. His eyes shot wide with fear.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian said dryly.

Alexius fell to his knees. "You win," he closed his eyes, "There is no point in extending this charade."

Evelyn’s lips curled back in a snarl and an indescribable, insurmountable rage filled her as she dripped with grime and blood that was not her own. She dropped her staff and rushed at the man that had turned the world into a living hell.

Evelyn grabbed Alexius by the throat and flung him across the room with a strength she didn’t know she had. He hit the ground in a heap. The Herald launched herself after the Magister, mercilessly beating his crumpled form with strikes augmented by hatred and magic. Each attack was seemingly more forceful than the last, and Evelyn reveled in her vicious work. The man’s face and mouth began to bleed profusely and his eyes began to swell shut, his cheeks and orbital bones cracking under the force of her strikes. She finally stopped, eyeing a dagger hanging off the man in a bandolier, and Evelyn drew it, dragging the Magister to his feet. Fear filled his bruised and blood-filled eyes as he looked past her shoulder.

“Felix…“ the man somehow managed to sputter through broken teeth.

Evelyn stopped and turned. Felix stood, sorrow and fear filling his eyes. She looked at her friends, their faces painted with shock and terror. She dropped the dagger from her cut and bloody hands as Felix approached his father.

"It's going to be alright, Father."

Bloody tears began to stream down Alexius’s broken face. “You’ll die!”

“Everyone dies,” Felix smiled sadly.

“Take him,” Evelyn barked to the soldiers, her voice shaking with spilling emotions. They tied his hands and led him from the hall. His staff was confiscated, and she wordlessly tossed it to Dorian.

“Well, I'm glad that's over with," Dorian sighed with relief. Then the door opened and Fereldan soldiers marched through the door. 

"... Or not."

A tall man with bright strawberry blonde hair walked in, the royal seal of the Theirin family emblazoned on his chest. A slight blonde woman stood by his side. Both of them were visibly furious. King Alistair and Queen Anora had arrived.

"Grand Enchanter, we'd like to discuss your abuse of our hospitality," Alistair spoke coldly.

Fiona stepped forward sheepishly, her hands clasped in front of her. "Your majesties," her voice trembled.

"When we offered the Mages sanctuary, we did not give them the right to drive our people from their homes," Anora spoke coldly.

"King Alistair, Queen Anora, I assure you, we never intended..."

“In light of your actions, good intentions are not enough,” Alistair snapped, "You and your followers have worn out your welcome. Leave Ferelden, or we'll be forced to make you leave."

"But..." Fiona looked at the king with despair, "We have hundreds who need protection. Thousands. Where will we go?"

Evelyn bent and picked up her staff with her now throbbing aching hands. The sight of her chafed and cut knuckles quelled her fury. “There is still a hole in the sky that needs closing,” she reminded the Grand Enchanter. Alistair and Anora looked at each other.

"And what are the terms of this arrangement?' Fiona asked.

"Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you,” Dorian interjected, “The Inquisition is better than that, yes?"

"I've known a lot of mages," Varric offered, "They can be loyal friends if you let them. Friends who make bad decisions, but still. Loyal."

"It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer," Fiona looked at me with hope.

She thought for a moment about the implications of the decision she was about to make. If she offered an alliance, it may anger the Templars in the Inquisition, and she wasn’t even sure if her colleagues would honor the deal. If she conscripted them, she was no better than Tevinter and the institutions the mages had fought so hard to break free from. She looked at her companions, then at Fiona. Then at Alistair and Anora. And it hit her.

Evelyn was becoming the leader of the Inquisition. She had stepped into the role Inquisitor in everything but title. Erik may have given hugely swaying advice, sure, and he had made his own choices within the organization, but he had almost always let her have the final say in the end. Even Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen merely advised most of the time.

They were waiting for her decision. So she chose.

"We would have you fight as allies at the Inquisition's side," Evelyn spoke in a resolute voice. Varric and Dorian smiled, and Cassandra’s eyes grew wide with surprise.

"A generous offer," Fiona said, "But will the rest of the Inquisition honor it?"

"The Breach threatens all of Thedas,” Evelyn reasoned, “We cannot afford to be divided now. We can't fight it without you, and despite the poor decisions made in recent times, I trust you’ll strive to not make the same mistakes again. Any chance of success requires your full support, and if we were to conscript you, we would be no better than Tevinter or the institution you rebelled from in the first place.”

"It's a generous offer," King Alistair said, staring at Fiona, "I doubt you're going to get a better one from us." The Queen gave a grim noise of agreement.

"We accept," Fiona nodded gratefully, "It would be madness not to. I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance." She fled from the room faster than Evelyn imagined the tiny elf could. 

The Herald looked at King Alistair and Queen Anora, completely confused as to what was going on. The King smiled.

“You had to make a decision. You made it,” he turned to his wife, “If you would, my love, I’d like to speak to the Herald alone.” The Queen nodded and gestured to the rest of the Inquisition members in the throne room, who followed wordlessly. The door closed behind them.

“So. The Herald of Andraste. If you wouldn’t mind telling me what in the world just happened?” he said with a crooked smile.

Evelyn explained, in gruesome detail. His eyes grew wide, but at the end of her tale, he simply nodded.

“If I were a normal person, I’d tell you that you were insane,” the King joked, “But there’s currently a hole in the sky and I watched Aedan Cousland slay Urthemiel and live. Grey Wardens literally aren’t supposed to survive killing an Archdemon. The other four didn’t.”

“The world is a strange place, isn’t it, your grace?” Evelyn laughed, a hint of grimness in her tone.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, then Alistair spoke again. “They’re probably going to make you Inquisitor.”

Evelyn blinked in surprise. “No… no. I don’t want them to.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” he laughed, “I’m a bastard, and Eamon Guerrin legitimized me and put me on the throne against my will. Then he married me to Anora. _That_ , at least, worked out in the end, but still…”

“We don’t get to choose our own paths.” The Warden-King nodded.

“I’m telling you this so that you can be prepared. You may think someone is more fit for the job. Perhaps this Champion of Andraste I’ve heard of. But what you think doesn’t matter when it comes to this; it matters who others want to lead them. When they decide the time is right, they’ll drag you kicking and screaming to the position, and you’ll become one of the most powerful people in Thedas. And you won’t have any idea what the hell you’re doing,” he laughed heartily.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Evelyn sarcastically muttered.

The King of Ferelden clasped her on the shoulder. “You’ll get the hang of it quickly. I can see that already.

“Well, if you have no other tales of voyages through time to shock me with, Herald, I believe I’ll take my leave. I’ve had enough of Tevinter Magisters and time travel to last a lifetime,” he concluded.

 _I absolutely agree with you_ , Evelyn thought darkly

“Oh, and Herald? Tell Leliana I said hello. I should come visit your little Inquisition sometime.”

Evelyn watched him leave, then walked shakily out of Redcliffe Castle. Her companions stood in a huddle in the courtyard, watching her. She felt the blood drip from her fingers and she looked down at her shaking hands. Her mind was blank for several moments as she simply observed the small puddle of ruby liquid forming on the ground beside her battered boots.

And then the realization of what she had just experienced came crashing down, and she dropped to her hands and knees and threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Withstand the Fall of Time by Immortal - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ihVtuw2n0c
> 
> In my mind, Evelyn's beating of Alexius is completely reasonable. I have seen people lose their shit like that (occasionally way, way worse than that) after traumatic experiences, and it is never pretty. I also don't think that the game or any writing could do justice to the absolute horrors that the Inquisitor is supposed to have witnessed during IHW, but sometimes your mind fills the gaps with worse things than the creators intended.
> 
> There's a reason why Erik is immune to the effects of ingesting red lyrium that I'll explore as we get further on.
> 
> As a side note, things are not pretty right now, in America especially. If you feel like you need an escape, Scottish pirate metal legends Alestorm just released their new album, and it's hilariously fun. If nothing else, I hope you're all able to take a step back and breathe in all this insanity.


	15. Death and the Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn recovers from her experience in Redcliffe. Erik works with Leliana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly fluff and character development here.
> 
> Warning: Torture
> 
> Bioware/EA owns Thedas, any dialogue from the games, and the characters therein.

Erik rode into Haven two weeks after his questionably successful raid on Therinfal Redoubt, four hundred and two Templars in tow. They’d only lost nine on the road. Seven succumbed to their wounds while two lost their lives to infection, and each loss stung Erik worse than the last. They arrived some few hours after nightfall; the only sounds they heard were the whispering of mountain winds and the gentle clanking of metal armor. As they arrived, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine approached, all three rubbing sleep out of their eyes.

“We received your message,” Leliana yawned, “It was good that you managed to rescue the remainder of the Templars from the same fate as the rest of their order.”

“I could have saved more if we had moved sooner,” Erik grunted, “But it doesn’t matter now. We have four hundred and two Templars with us, nine were lost on the road. About a fifth of them require some form of medical attention, and all of them are exhausted.”

“I’ll see to it that they receive the amenities and care they need,” Josephine nodded, writing down something on her notepad.

“Was there really nothing that could be done? About the Order’s disbandment?” Cullen asked sadly.

“They were broken, Commander,” Herah explained as she approached Erik’s side, “Utterly broken. Their betrayal went beyond what any of them had ever anticipated. Those that remain still wish to hold to their oaths of protection, but many of them feel disgusted with how the Order was twisted.”

“There are some things that we need to discuss further, but needless to say it’s late and we’re all bone tired. It can wait until the morning, I hope,” the offworlder half-demanded. Herah made a noise of approval.

“Very well,” Cullen agreed, “I’ll find you and Captain Adaar in the morning for a full debrief. Also, you should know that the Herald returned from Redcliffe a week ago with a forward contingency of mages.”

“How did she handle the situation?”

A muscle jumped in the Commander’s neck, telling Erik all he needed to know. “She offered an alliance with the Rebellion, and we cannot back out of it without tarnishing the reputation of the Inquisition.”

Erik was secretly relieved with his friend’s decision. Despite Fiona making quite possibly the dumbest decision he could think of, he’d always sympathized with the mage plight. If they conducted themselves well and showed themselves to be reliable allies, perhaps it would change the way many viewed magic and those who wielded its power.

“And how is Evelyn herself?” Erik pressed.

“Not good,” Leliana said with a shake of her head, “According to Cassandra, she refused to speak to anyone after she spoke to King Alistair, and woke from nightmares every night during the return trip. She’s spoken to us only once since, and was so aggressive that it nearly caused a fuss in the Chantry.”

“That bad, huh?” he asked as he rubbed his forehead in worry.

“None of us have seen her in five days,” Josephine added, “She purchased nearly a dozen bottles of whiskey and retreated into her cabin, and has only come out to eat twice a day. Was the experience that bad?”

“Worse than you could possibly imagine. She’ll probably be scarred for life,” Erik sorrowfully murmured.

“The Tevinter mage, Dorian, described what happened at Redcliffe. Is what he claims true? They were sent to a horrible future where the world had fallen? That a demon army invaded under the command of this ‘Elder One’ and that Empress Celene was assassinated?” Leliana asked with a hint of worry.

“The demon army and Celene’s assassination are at least true,” Adaar noted, “We recovered reports about plans for those two actions at Therinfal Redoubt.”

“The rest is true, as well,” Erik somberly confirmed, “I’ll talk to her after I clean up and change.” The three advisors nodded and everyone went their separate ways for the evening.

Erik placed all his belongings in his cabin before wandering to the communal bathhouse and taking a cold but refreshing soak. He changed in silence and slipped his boots on, then strode with purpose to the cabin that sat next to his. Erik took a deep breath and pushed himself through the door frame.

The cabin stank of booze and was an absolute mess. Empty bottles sat everywhere, books were strewn across the room, and Evelyn sat upright on her bed, a half-full bottle of whiskey resting between her thighs.

“I was wondering if you’d show up when you came back,” Evelyn slurred before taking a pull of the alcoholic beverage, “Here to talk me out of my stupor?”

“I’m here to make sure my friend is okay,” Erik responded as he pulled up a chair and sat next to her bed.

“Oh, I’m fine. I only saw my friends die and discovered the corpse of a man I consider my brother, just to find out that none of it would come to pass. Who wouldn’t be fine after that?”

“I’m not saying it would be easy, Evelyn. But I knew you’d survive.”

“Survive,” she laughed grimly, “I’ll survive. But how the _fuck_ am I supposed to get over this? I went through hell in that castle, Erik. I understand why you couldn’t explain what I would see; it wouldn’t have helped anyway.” She lapsed into silence for a moment, and Erik put a hand on her knee in comfort.

“Do you want to know how you died?” she asked, “You were bled to death after being tortured with Leliana for a year. For stopping her from being raped. They would have fed you red lyrium, but apparently you’re immune to it.”

Erik was taken aback by her statement. He was tortured alongside Leliana? And he’d died in front of the spymaster? He didn’t know what to say to that. Nor did he know what to say to the revelation that he was immune to red lyrium. Because if he was immune to it, would that mean he’s immune to the Blight, as well?

“How the hell are you supposed to move on after something like that?” Evelyn asked in a trembling voice as tears started to trickle from her face, “Why did this have to happen? I don’t know if I can keep going.”

Erik’s mood turned stony and he spoke up. “Evelyn, look at me. _Look at me_.” The Marcher turned her head toward him, a look of shock on her face at his stern tone.

“It’s not a question of whether you can keep going. You’re going to keep going. It isn’t a question. Do you think anyone in this village hasn’t seen horrible things that keep them up at night? Cullen absolutely has. Varric has. Cassandra has. I’m sure Blackwall and Iron Bull have, as well. Leliana has to sleep with a candle lit at night in case she wakes from a nightmare, for fuck’s sake. I wake up half the time remembering the horrible things I’ve seen and done. 

“I’ve had men I called my brothers die in my arms. I carried my best friend’s body out of a combat zone without ever getting the chance to say goodbye, and then I had to tell his wife and children that he was gone. I carried a child’s leg back to where our medic was performing surgery so he could reattach it, and then I grabbed her little brother’s head and kept it from her sighe, because that was all that was left of him. I’ve killed so many people I’ve lost count. Do you know what keeps me going after all that? It would be an insult to all the men and women I’ve served with and lost if I just gave up. But it isn’t easy. The easy thing would be to lay down and give up. But nothing worth doing in life is easy.”

Evelyn swallowed thickly and shook her head. “Does it ever get easier?”

“It does,” Erik confirmed, “After a time. It’ll stay with you forever, but you can grow from it. You’ll learn to deal with nightmares if you get any. But it doesn’t just happen. You have to start to move on.”

“But how?” Evelyn asked in desperation.

“Well, the first thing you need to do is stop drinking your problems away,” he admonished as he took the half-empty bottle from her, “It’ll only make you worse. Then you get a good night’s sleep and start reconnecting with all the people you watched die. Because they’re all alive now and they’re all worried for you.”

The Herald was silent for a very long time, her face impassive. Erik felt a twinge of pity and continued.

“And you ask for help when you need it. You aren’t alone in dealing with the horrors of war, no matter how much you may feel like that may be true. If nothing else, I’ll help you with this. I promise that as long as I live, I’ll always be here for you. I love you like a sister, Ev, and it hurts me to see you like this.” Evelyn nodded her silent acceptance and he gave her a warm smile before planting a gentle kiss on her brow.

“Get some sleep. If you have nightmares and they’re too much to bear, my house is right next to yours. Wake me up at any time.” And he turned and left, taking the remaining bottles of alcohol with him.

He returned to his cabin and set the alcohol down before stripping his clothes off and crawling into bed. It really was painful to see Evelyn in so much mental anguish. He remembered being like that after he first began to develop PTSD. It took him years to grow out of his self-loathing and fear, and though he knew it’d always be a scar, the wounds have long since healed. He just hoped Evelyn could find the same solace he did.

A knock on his door awoke him some hours later from his dreamless, exhausted slumber. He wordlessly threw on some pants and shuffled to the door, expecting to find that Evelyn had decided to take him up on his offer.

Instead he found Leliana dressed in a linen shirt and leather pants with a fur-lined overcoat. He blinked in surprise at the redheaded Orlesian’s presence and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting you of all people to be the one at my door right now,” he greeted.

“Oh? Who did you expect?” she asked curiously.

“Ev. I told her to come to me if the nightmares became too much,” he explained, “What time is it?”

“It’s a couple hours before dawn.” So he’d gotten about five hours of sleep. Not bad, but he’d need more later.

“So what can I do for you?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I need you to come with me. We’ve caught Butler, and I’d like you to speak with him,” Leliana responded in a grim tone.

“You don’t want to do it yourself?”

“I can’t trust myself to remain impartial, and you’ve said you have experience with conducting interrogations,” the Bard explained.

Erik sighed and steeled himself for what he was about to do. “Okay. Give me ten minutes to get ready and I’ll be there. Bring a cloth, ten buckets of water, a thick plank of wood, and a table we can strap him to. And anything else you personally think we may need.”

Leliana nodded and turned to leave. “Meet me in the Chantry’s dungeons when you’re ready.” He closed the door and approached his bag, retrieving his phone and speaker, powering them both on. _A little psychological warfare wouldn’t hurt_ , he reasoned.

Erik threw a shirt on and rolled the sleeves up past his forearms before cleaning up his messy hair - it was getting much longer, he noted - and finally shucked thick leather boots over his feet before grabbing a piece of parchment and writing a note for Evelyn.

_Evelyn,_

_Something came up with Nightingale. If you’re reading this, wait for me. I promise I’ll be back in a couple hours at most._

He grabbed his belongings and strode silently to the Chantry, purging all emotion from his face. He walked down the staircase that led to the dungeons and met Leliana, who was standing outside a chamber that held a blindfolded man tied by his hands and feet to a long table. Everything he had requested lay on a second table. A chair sat caddy cornered in the shadows.

“Butler’s in there, along with everything you requested, as well as a knife, a pair of calipers, and a candle,” the spymaster informed, “I trust you know what needs to be done?”

Erik nodded grimly. “Any specific you want me to ask?” he probed.

“Who he works for, his mission, what he’s sent to his true employer, and any measures he knows of that we can use to counteract his betrayal.” she murmured back. He nodded and the duo made their way into the chamber and Leliana moved to light a second torch. Erik shook his head and she relented. The offworlder pulled the chair up and sat by the man’s head, keeping the spy’s blindfold on.

“Hello there,” he greeted in a cheery voice.

“Who are you? Where am I? What is the meaning of this?” Butler quickly asked in an Orlesian accent.

“Those are the only questions I’ll answer, you know,” Erik warned, “My name is unimportant. You’re in Haven, and you’re here because you betrayed the Inquisition and murdered a fellow agent.”

“Fuck off, you dog. I won’t tell anything,” the prisoner spat. Erik merely shrugged.

“We’ll see. Let’s start with your name. Care to introduce yourself?”

“Butler,” came the simple response. Erik let out a huff of amusement.

“You and I both know that’s not your real name. Give me your _real_ name.”

A moment of silence followed before the Orlesian man finally responded, “Jean de Gaulle.”

“Good,” Erik nodded, “Now, Jean, I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer them as honestly as you possibly can and I promise to make this as painless as possible.”

Jean struggled against his restraints. “Let me out of these restraints. Take this blindfold off so I can see you, coward!”

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen, Jean,” Erik sighed as he set the speaker down and scrolled through his music collection. A little Portal should do the trick for now. He pressed play and the darkest, most dissonant music he’d ever come across began to play. Erik watched the veins in Jean’s neck as the prisoner’s pulse began to quicken. He gestured for Leliana to grab the wooden blocks, and she did so wordlessly as he propped up the table and gestured for her to place them under the table’s legs, setting Jean’s prostrate body at a slight decline, his head slightly closer to the ground..

“Who do you work for?” he asked as he wet the cloth in a bucket before wringing the excess out. Jean remained silent, so Erik sighed and placed the now damp cloth over the prisoner’s face. Erik grabbed the bucket and began to slowly pour.

The effect was immediate. Jean’s muscles tensed and his hands curled as he struggled against the restraints. Erik continued to impassively dump water for a few more seconds before he set the bucket down and folded the cloth back from the man’s mouth. He took a panicked gasp of air

“Who do you work for?” Erik asked more sternly.

“What is this? You’re a bloody savage!” the spy responded. Erik shrugged and folded the cloth back down as he poured water for a few more seconds. A muffled scream was emitted from the man as Leliana watched in calm fury.

“This is going to keep going until you start answering honestly, motherfucker,” Erik snapped.

“Empress Celene! I work for her Grace Celene Valmont,” the man cried.

“You sure?” Erik asked as he began to fold the cloth back over the man’s face.

“Yes! Yes, I swear!”

“Thank you for answering honestly,” Erik murmured, “Second question. What does Empress Celene want with the Inquisition?”

Butler/Jean didn’t respond, so he folded the cloth back down and poured. Another bout of struggling followed for a few seconds until Erik stopped his assault and stripped the cloth from the man’s face.

“Information!” the man sputtered desperately, “She doesn’t trust the Inquisition. She believes it is heretical and plots to depose her.”

“Why does she believe that?” Erik asked.

“Your Spymaster knows,” the man coughed, “She knows that Empress Celene burned the Halamshiral alienage to hide her political mistakes. Such information would cause elven uprisings across the Empire.”

“It would, I agree,” Erik nodded, “Why did you kill Farrier?”

A bout of silence followed. “You’re one of the Nightingale’s little birds, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I didn’t permit you to ask any questions.” Another bout of water was poured on the prisoner’s face. When it was done, he pulled the cloth back.

“No more! Please, for the love of the Maker and all that is holy, no more,” the man sobbed, “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“You sure? I can always keep going if you want,” Erik offered cruelly.

“No please, holy Andraste, no!” Jean wailed, “I killed Farrier because he discovered I was working for the Empress. I only sent back information regarding the Inquisition’s movements and internal structure, I didn’t have the time or clearance to steal any valuable information.”

“Did you send anything that could be potentially damaging? If so, how can we counteract it?”

“I informed the crown that the Champion of Andraste seems to know the future, and that Vivienne de Fer had joined the Inquisition. The latter worried her more than the former; the Empress’s arcane advisor claimed that foresight is a myth, and Vivienne’s lover is the head of the Council of Heralds, and his sway could weaken Her Grace’s power.”

“Well, here’s where you’re wrong, Jean,” Erik whispered menacingly in the man’s ear, “I _do_ know the future. Morrigan was wrong. And Celene should be more worried about the Grand Duke’s soldiers and Briala’s political moves than the Inquisition, wouldn’t you say?”

The man was stunned into silence and Erik turned to Leliana. “Anything else?”

“No. He has told us enough, Champion. Anything else, I can glean from my own network,” she responded. Erik sat back down on the chair and placed his hands on Jean’s shoulders. The prisoner let out a whimper of fear.

“Thank you for your cooperation. It made this much easier than I believed it would be,” Erik spoke before grabbing Jean’s head and jerking it violently, snapping his neck. Erik stood up and approached Leliana.

“Should we be worried about Celene?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips. Leliana shook her head.

“I don’t believe so. With a number of Templars - or former Templars, rather - with us as well as the Mage Rebellion, Celene would have more to lose than to gain in attacking us in any way. She has her hands full with the Grand Duke’s army and Briala’s machinations, and any attack against the Inquisition now would be stretching her resources too thin,” she cocked her head and looked at the dead man, “I must say I’ve never seen the technique you employed before. What is it called?”

“It’s waterboarding. My country used it extensively to interrogate terrorists over the last twenty years. It simulates the feeling of drowning as well as a smothering feeling. The technique is brutal but extremely effective, especially for one not trained against it.”

“I will teach it to my agents, then, and ensure it stays within the Inquisition,” Leliana murmured, “I’ll have my agents remove the body in a minute. Thank you. You were extremely helpful, and to be honest, I don’t think I could have interrogated myself nor trusted anyone else to conduct questioning.”

“Anytime,” Erik responded. He grabbed his belongings and strode out of the dungeon without another word.

Erik awoke the next morning well past sunrise; he was grateful that no one had tried to drag him out of bed with the sun. He was exhausted, with the combination of his worry over Evelyn and his interrogation of the Orlesian spy taking a huge toll on his already weary body. He lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for a very long time, thinking about what he should do for the day.

From what he was told last night about the mages, the main body wouldn’t be arriving in Haven for at least another week. Meaning they probably had two before the Breach was closed, unless the Inquisition’s leaders decided to jump the gun. And honestly, he was okay with two weeks of relative peace. He would have put his foot down if they’d suggested closing the Breach now anyways; he wanted Evelyn to recover for a bit and learn how to cope with what he had no doubt would become PTSD. He also wanted to silently plan for the inevitable assault on the village.

Erik finally decided he should probably meet with Cullen and give his AAR, so he rolled out of bed, washed up, and ate a plate of food that a servant had graciously left in the middle of the night. Once he was prepared, he strode out to meet with Cullen, resolving to check in on Evelyn when he was done. He found the Commander showing some advanced technique that involved catching the opponent’s sword on the edge of one’s shield and using their momentum against them, and he waited until the demonstration was complete. The Fereldan man noticed him and approached.

“Champion. I assume you’re here to give a full debrief?” the man asked politely. Erik nodded once and Cullen began walking toward the gates of Haven.

“Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra wished to be present, as well,” Cullen explained as they walked through the hamlet, “I believe Captain Adaar is currently in the Chantry with Josephine. Something about sending a letter to her parents and letting them know she’s alright.”

Erik didn’t respond, mentally preparing what he would say in regards to the raid. It would be easier with Herah present, as she had been in charge of the soldiers for the vast majority of the operation. As they entered the War Room, Erik found that the four women were already waiting for them.

“Ah. Champion, Commander,” Cassandra greeted, “It’s good you’ve arrived. Captain Adaar did not want to start the debrief without your presence.”

“Now, then let’s get to business,” Leliana nodded, “Tell us what happened at Therinfal Redoubt.”

Between Herah and Erik, the after-action review went as smoothly as possible. The loss of both the Inquisition soldiers and the majority of the Templar Order was still fresh in Erik’s mind, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he and Adaar surgically explained what had occurred.

“The soldiers performed beyond admirably,” Erik said as they finished explaining their assault, “If I might make a suggestion, Commander, I’d recommend keeping the unit, rather than disbanding it and sending each of the combatants back to their original units.”

Herah’s eyes widened slightly and she looked at the offworlder in surprise. Her eyes darted around the room before finally settling on the Commander’s, and Erik got the distinct impression that he’d proposed something that Herah had wanted to ask but had decided against.

“I see. And what would be the benefit of keeping such a unit?” Cullen asked with a hint of curiosity.

“We had units similar to the one I worked with in my world,” Erik explained, “And while I understand that warfare is wildly different in Thedas, the concept still works: a highly specialized unit that is trained to hit compounds and enemies fast and hard, often with the element of surprise.”

“I’d have to bolster the ranks, you realize.”

Erik shook his head, “I disagree. The soldiers we worked with have already proven themselves to be efficient and capable. Keep them as they are and let anyone that wants to join go through a selection of sorts. Choose the people that would fit the most within the unit, and let it grow naturally that way.”

“To be honest, I was thinking of suggesting the exact same thing,” Adaar admitted, “Once we got over the whole ‘taking commands from a Qunari’ thing, the company worked with extreme competency.”

Cullen rubbed the pommel of his sword in thought and glanced at Cassandra. He finally nodded and turned back to Herah.

“Name your second in command,” he offered.

“Lavellan,” she requested, “The Dalish elf. He essentially acted as my second when we hit Therinfal and working with him was a treat.”

“Very well. I’ll make the unit permanent,” Cullen finally agreed, “Now, is there anything else of note that we should know about what happened at Therinfal?”

With nothing else, the five individuals began to disperse, but Erik laid a hand on Leliana’s shoulder, stopping the Spymaster before she filed out the door.

“I need to speak with you,” he murmured. She nodded as Erik closed the door, and he glanced at her in apprehension. He was becoming more and more nervous when speaking to the Orlesian alone, and the thought itched at the back of his mind no matter how much he tried to beat it out of his head.

“Well?” she asked expectedly.

“What did Evelyn tell you about your presence in the dark future she went to?”

“Only that I was tortured beyond recognition and that you had been imprisoned and interrogated with me,” she admitted, “And that you were killed in front of me after dispatching a torturer that tried to force himself on me.”

“That wasn’t what I was getting at, but it’s still intriguing to learn nonetheless,” Erik acquiesced with a raised eyebrow.

“I agree, but it doesn’t make any sense,” she argued thoughtfully, “Keeping two prisoners from the same organization together, especially two trained in espionage, is beyond stupid. They would simply spin a story and make it more difficult for any legitimate information to be gleaned. Have you ever kept two prisoners together like that?”

“Only once. We’d come across a husband and wife that were all but confirmed to be working with the organization we were fighting at the time,” Erik explained, “When it was evident separate interrogations were going nowhere, we started interrogating them together. They didn’t want to see their loved one getting hurt, so we used it against them.”

Leliana made a humming sound and she pursed her lips in thought as she stared at the table. “Could these Venatori the Herald fought have been using a similar tactic?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “It’s possible, but I personally wouldn’t have done it unless the two prisoners were in a relationship.”

“Then the question now becomes whether the versions of ourselves that Evelyn encountered in the future were romantically involved,” Leliana observed. Erik wanted to argue against it, but the Bard had a point. The only reason he could think of for him to have been killed in front of Leliana would have been to attempt mentally breaking her. And despite the idea doing strange things to his insides, he could easily see himself falling for her.

“I’m not sure how you feel, but I can see it. From my end, at least,” Erik revealed with no little amount of nervousness. Leliana simply raised an eyebrow in response.

“I see,” she responded after a long moment. There was another bout of silence that followed, and Erik couldn’t meet her eyes.

“As flattered as I am, Erik, nothing could happen now. Not while the Breach is still open, at least,” the Orlesian finally said with a hint of apprehension. Erik felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite place form in his belly. He nodded in silent but slightly defeated understanding.

“That isn’t to say nothing will happen at all,” she continued, “Just… not until things calm down.”

“Things aren’t going to calm down for a long time, Leliana,” he revealed before he could stop himself, “Closing the Breach won’t be the end of all this. But I understand.”

She didn’t respond, and they stood awkwardly in the war room in a bout of silence that seemed to drag on for eternity.

“There is one other thing I need to speak with you about,” he added, breaking the silence in a sudden and jarring way, “According to Evelyn, the reason I was tortured with you in that future was that I’m immune to red lyrium’s infectiousness, which means I’m probably immune to the Blight.”

Her calm demeanor didn’t slip, but she shifted slightly in surprise. “And why would you reveal this to me alone instead of the other advisors?”

“Because I trust you. And because at the very least, you’re resistant to the Blight, as well.”

* * *

Evelyn sat in the tavern with Varric, a glass of water cradled between her hands. She’d spent most of the day with the dwarf, not entirely certain he wouldn’t simply vanish the instant she got up to leave. After exchanging some small talk, they lapsed into silence as Varric began to write in the notebook.

“After Hawke’s mother was killed a few years back, she started drinking, you know,” Varric began, startling Evelyn out of her borderline meditation, “I don’t think she ever got over it. The man who killed Leandra, Quentin? Marian killed him with more malice than anyone should have. It permanently changed her. She became more unforgiving and started masking her own insecurities with even more humor than before. Honestly, I think she would have probably killed herself if it weren’t for Isabela.”

Evelyn thought for a moment. “Why did Isabela help that much?”

“Rivaini found Hawke drunk in her estate a couple months after Leandra’s death. The Viscount’s son had just been assassinated by the Chantry, and tensions were rising between the Qunari and the City. I don’t know what happened that night, but what I do know is that after Isabela dragged Hawke to the Hanged Man for a game of Wicked Grace with the rest of us she started to recover. A good thing she did, too, because a week later the Arishok snapped and everything went to shit.”

“Why are you telling me this, Varric?”

“Sparkler told me what happened in that future of yours,” Varric revealed, “It would have messed anybody up. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t feel anything over what happened. I’m just saying alcohol and wallowing won’t help. We’re all here. Nearly everyone you know around here has probably seen things that they wish they hadn’t witnessed. That includes me. So if you ever need to talk about it, I’m here. If you don’t, it’ll just eat at you from the inside.”

Evelyn gave the dwarf a gentle smile. She wasn’t quite sure what to say to him, and to be honest, she felt like anything she could say wouldn’t express her gratitude.

“Anyway, that’s all I gotta say,” he shrugged, “We’ve all been there. Talk to us. We’re all here for you.”

She sat with Varric for a long while more before wandering through the village without a set destination. There really was nothing to do yet; even with the remains of the Templars Erik had brought back, they had to wait for the mages’ arrival before anything substantial could be attempted against the Breach. So she had an asinine amount of time, which wasn’t necessarily the best thing for her at the moment.

“You’re the Herald, right?” a deep, booming voice came from behind her. She turned to find a giant of a man; he easily stood over seven feet tall, with two horns jutting out on either side of his head and an eye patch over one eye. He wasn’t wearing hardly anything from the waist up, revealing the largest concentration of muscle she’d ever seen, all ridges and grooves rippling under tight, scarred grey skin.

“I am,” she nodded nervously, “You’re Iron Bull, right?”

“That’d be me,” he agreed in a friendly tone, “Horns give it away>”

“Among other things,” she joked, “What can I do for you?”

“I was actually looking for the Spymaster. Gotta run a report by Red and run it by my superiors. Know where she is?” Evelyn stilled for a short moment. Bull himself seemed nice enough, but she’d heard about his connections to the Qun, which made her a target and him a threat. She pushed the thought to the side and settled on friendliness and amicability.

“If the meeting she was at with the other Inquisition leaders is over, she’s probably by her tent,” she thought out loud, “I’ll come with you; she’s probably with someone I want to talk to.” Bull gave a nod and they strode silently through the village.

Evelyn was right. Leliana and Erik were sitting in the Spymaster’s tent, foreheads nearly touching as they spoke in hushed tones. If it weren’t for the deathly serious looks on the duo’s face, she would have said they’d dealt with the palpable tension between them.

Erik noticed Bull and Evelyn and quickly moved over. “Evelyn. Feeling better?”

She sighed and gave a slight nod and smile. “Better than last night, that’s certain,” she confirmed, “We can discuss things in a moment. Bull has some report to run by Leliana.”

Leliana was quickly by Erik’s side, her face an indecipherable wall. She held out her hand to the qunari warrior, who handed her a rolled up piece of parchment.

“Just reporting to my highers,” Bull explained, “Giving them updates on the status of the Breach, and the progress in the South in general. Standard fare.”

Leliana looked at the piece of parchment blankly until Erik peered over the Orlesian’s shoulder. He raised an eyebrow and grabbed the parchment from Leliana’s offering hands, reading over it quickly.

“Well?” Leliana asked. Evelyn glanced at Bull; his eye darted between the two impassive redheads with a stony expression.

“He wasn’t lying about the status update, but there’s other stuff in here, too. A couple notes on the size of our forces, our reach in the South, and potential threats we might face in the future. But the big thing is the bit right here,” he pointed to something on the parchment, and Leliana gave a slight huff of endeared annoyance.

“Erik, you know I can’t read Qunlat,” she almost drawled, “What does it say?”

“It’s discussing my weapon. Bull here deduced that the rounds are fired using an explosive powder, and he’s worried we’ve figured out the formula to gaatlok.”

All three redheads in the tent turned and looked at the Ben-Hassrath with frustrated faces. Bull tensed slightly but didn’t respond at all. Evelyn felt a slight anger bubble up in her. She just wanted a nice, relaxing conversation with Erik and Leliana before they began planning their assault on the Breach. Was that too much to ask?

“From here on out, as long as you’re working for the Inquisition, all your reports will go through Erik as well as Leliana. Is that clear, Bull?” she demanded forcefully.

“Crystal,” Bull responded calmly, watching as Erik handed the message back to the Left Hand for her to toss it into a brazier. Bull turned to go, and Erik said something to the Qunari in a language she didn’t understand. Bull started for a moment, turning back slightly to the offworlder. Erik had a look of cold fury on his face as Bull left the tent.

“What did you say to him?” Leliana asked.

“I told him if he ever tried pulling something like that again I’d fucking shoot him,” Erik spat crassly, “I honestly don’t know if he understood me. Not sure yet if spoken Qunlat is the same as Arabic.”

“He seemed to understand you,” Evelyn noted, turning toward the dangerously frustrated redheads, “Although I’m not sure if he took your threat seriously.”

“He fucking should,” Erik snapped, “Look, I like the guy. I really do. He’s a good man at heart. But I will _not_ accept a threat like that idly. He could have started a war. At the very least, he would have endangered everyone I care about here.”

“I’ll have a handful of agents trail him,” Leliana decided. Erik glanced at her.

“Don’t pull them from anything important. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d kill him if he tries something like that again.”

Evelyn examined her friend’s frustrated face. He was clearly stressed, though about what she couldn’t say. It may have been over his excursion to Therinfal and its potential repercussions, or it could have been something else entirely. Regardless, she knew that Erik was stubborn; if he didn’t want to talk about it, no amount of pestering would get him to open up.

“What were you two talking about when I entered?” Evelyn finally asked. Leliana shifted her weight and a slightly uncomfortable look came across her face.

“We were discussing our resistance and potential immunity to the Blight,” she admitted. Evelyn’s eyes widened and she was stunned into silence.

“If you wandered Redcliffe for a bit - and I’m glad you didnt - you would have potentially found a note that explained that Leliana is resistant to the Blight. And since I’m apparently immune to red lyrium, and it’s Blighted, we extrapolated that to mean I’m immune to the Blight. We were discussing why we both are able to resist the Blight’s effects.”

“Any ideas?” Evelyn asked apprehensively.

Leliana drummed her fingers on her table in thought. “Even with its unnatural origins, the Blight is a disease like any other. It may be that I developed a resistance during my travels with the Hero of Ferelden.”

“As for me, I have no fucking clue,” Erik admitted, tossing himself next to where Leliana sat, “I mean, my military immunized me to pretty much every major disease on Earth, but we didn’t really have any disease that was similar to the Blight. Maybe the Plague, but we’ve pretty much eradicated that. So it’s not likely that I got my immunity from Earth.”

“So something about your arrival to Thedas is what caused your immunity,” Evelyn surmised.

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Truthfully, Evelyn was disturbed by the concept. It was unheard of to be immune to the Blight’s corruption outside of the Grey Wardens. Every living thing was susceptible to the Blight. What did that say about Erik?

“Anyways, there’s nothing that can be done about it right now, and I’m not about to go mess with some Darkspawn to see if this ‘immunity’ holds up,” the offworlder joked, “I’m going to go get something to drink. You ladies want to come?”

“I have some work that needs to be done,” Leliana declined, “There’s much to plan before we attempt to close the Breach.” Erik nodded and pulled Evelyn from the tent without another word.

Two hours later they were still sitting in the tavern, accompanied by Dorian and Sera.

“To be honest I’d assumed the two of you were siblings when I first saw you,” Dorian mentioned after a small bout of silence fell between the four of them.

“We might as well be, in my opinion,” Erik laughed as he took another sip of mead, “Separate people from their families and they’ll eventually form new ones.” Evelyn had to admit, she agreed. Nearly two decades after her mother and father essentially disowned her, she’d finally found a family that she felt comfortable around in the form of Erik. And though she felt sympathy for the man being torn from everything he knew and sent here, on some level she was glad it had happened. He had quickly become her closest friend, and his near-constant companionship had become something Evelyn could rely on.

“Really? Because the rumors I’ve heard around the village suggest a more… intimate relationship than just siblings,” the Tevinter jabbed. Erik choked on his mead and Evelyn’s eyes went wide in shock.

“No! No, nothing like that,” she defended, “We’re just friends. We honestly do treat each other like siblings.” Honestly, could a man and a woman not be friends without rumours of intimacy spreading?

“Well, I think it’s a good thing you can rely on someone like that, innit?” Sera drawled.

“Yeah. It’s definitely a good thing,” Erik agreed.

“Separate, born to different families, but finding family in the other,” a calm, ethereal voice began speaking from behind her, “One helps the other grow. Heals the hurts. Two halves of the same whole.” Evelyn turned to find a thin, pale boy in his mid-teens standing awkwardly behind her. He wore the largest hat she’d ever seen, its brim covering his features in obscurity.

“We haven’t met,” the boy introduced, “I’m Cole.”

“Evelyn,” she greeted in response, gesturing toward an open seat at the table. The young boy awkwardly sat down, as if unsure if he should be there.

“Everyone, this is Cole. He helped us at Therinfal Redoubt,” Erik began, “He’s a bit… different.”

“I find people’s hurts, help to heal them,” Cole explained in a way that explained nothing.

“Cole is a spirit of compassion,” Erik explained in a gentle tone, “He’s probably the only one in the world like him. He goes around helping people any way he can, then makes them forget his presence.”

Evelyn stopped with her mug halfway to her mouth. This kind-looking boy was a spirit? How was he not driven insane by being pulled to the physical world? No spirit she’d ever heard of had kept themselves whole during the process. She didn’t feel the inky black corruption of possession, meaning… he was actually in his physical form.

“But I can’t make _you_ forget,” Cole argued with Erik, “I tried, after the Templars, but you didn’t want to forget. Your will wouldn’t allow it. It’s like me. There’s something about you that makes you like me.”

“I’m not a spirit, Cole, so I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Erik gently responded, glancing at Sera, who was looking more and more nervous and jumpy.

“But-”

“Relax, kid. Have a drink,” the offworlder pushed an extra mug toward the spirit boy. Evelyn glanced around the table at the other three faces. Erik seemed completely at ease with Cole’s presence, which put her more at ease; if he wasn’t acting as if Cole was a threat, then he probably wasn’t. But Dorian kept glancing sideways at the spirit, and Sera was looking at anything _but_ Cole. Suddenly, the elf woman did a double take and her eyes locked on a Qunari woman sitting at another table not far from them.

“I… um…” she began. Erik turned around and looked toward where Sera was glancing. He gave a knowing smile and rolled his eyes.

“Go talk to her, Sera. We all know you want to,” he drawled. Sera glanced back at Erik for a short moment before shooting up and striding over to the Vashoth.

“I was wondering when she was gonna make a move,” Erik laughed.

“Well, on that note, I’m heading to bed,” Dorian mused, “A man needs his beauty sleep, after all.”

“Alright, man. See you tomorrow,” Erik nodded. Evelyn gave a gentle smile to the Tevinter she’d learned to trust completely, and he strode from the Singing Maiden. Another bout of companionable silence followed Dorian’s departure until Erik’s eyes lit up and he gave a wry grin.

“Commander! Have a seat, relax for a bit,” he called. Evelyn froze, her eyes flying wide open. Was he insane? Her last encounter with Cullen had been less than friendly. There was no way she was ready to confront _that_ disaster.

Her silent protests fell on deaf ears, and the Fereldan warrior slid himself into one of the open seats with a soft grunt. Erik gave another wry smile and looked toward Cole.

“There’s something I need help with, Cole. Care to lend a hand?” Cole’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Satinalia.

“Help. I can do that,” the spirit boy agreed, and the two filed out of the tavern. As they did so, a realization came to Evelyn.

That bastard did this on _purpose_. She eyed the Commander awkwardly and took another sip of her ale.

“Why do I feel like Erik did that on purpose?” Cullen dryly mused.

“He absolutely did that on purpose. I know him well enough to guarantee that was premeditated,” Evelyn grunted. The two lapsed into silence for several dragging moments before they both spoke at once.

“I want to apologize for-”

“I’m sorry that I-”

They both stopped at once, and Cullen gave a half smile.

“You first,” Evleyn pressed.

“I wanted to apologize for my outburst when we last spoke,” Cullen offered, “An alliance with the mages was the last thing I was expecting, and I reacted poorly when learning of your decision.”

Evelyn fidgeted slightly. “Be that as it may, Cullen, it was clear you didn’t trust the mages. Do you view me the same way? A threat to be watched?”

Cullen sighed and rubbed his forehead. “No. My words were uncalled for. I have had trouble trusting magic in the past. It was unworthy of me, and I’ve sworn to be better about it in the future.”

Evelyn relaxed slightly at his admission. “Well then. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I suppose I should apologize for my aggression. I was… not in a good place when we spoke last. It won’t happen again.” Cullen gave her a small smile and they lapsed into silence.

They spoke about menial things for the rest of the night, and the tension between them slowly but surely dissipated until it was gone completely. As she walked through the village lit only by the eerie green glow of the Breach, she had to admit that maybe Erik was right to leave like he did. It was nice to relax and just enjoy the Commander’s company, even if she was almost forced into the situation.

As she shucked her clothes off and prepared for bed, it occurred to her she almost hadn’t thought about her harrowing experience at all through the last day. But she didn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunno why this one was tough to write, but it was. I just didn't know what to do with it. The next chapter will be the preparation for and closing of the Breach. Don't know when that will be posted, my life is about to be turned on its head in more ways than one.
> 
> Title is named for Death and the Healing by Wintersun - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wX-X7oX5Abc
> 
> Waterboarding is absolutely brutal. If you're not trained to resist against it, you'll break quickly. Couple it with psychological warfare and it's extremely effective. The song Erik used to mess with Butler's head is Curtain by Portal - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Vyw_FGIhAE


	16. Higher Than Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn tries once more to close the Breach. Erik prepares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter and it's mostly setup, to be honest. I had to get it out now, though. Work is getting hectic for more reasons than one, so I have to get as many chapters up before shit hits the fan and I'm too busy to post regularly.
> 
> Bioware/EA owns dialogue from the game and the world, blah blah blah, I'm just a monkey with a gun.

Erik, with Cole’s help, found the abandoned mineshaft that Evelyn would inevitably find herself in. It took longer than expected, both because he wasn’t truly sure where it was in relation to the much larger Haven, and the fact that he and Cole had to dodge roaming patrols to avoid questions. Even with everyone in the village knowing who he was, wandering the pilgrim town in the dead of night would be certain to raise questions. He and the spirit boy removed the rotting wooden planks carefully before descending into the cavern.

It wasn’t as desolate as he’d expect. The cavern was warmer than the surface, shielded from the elements. A small amount of light trickled through the cavern, though he knew without either the glowing mark or a torch Evelyn wouldn’t be able to see more than a few feet. Cole, after explaining what he wanted to do and why they couldn’t tell anyone, was eager to help.

“The horses didn’t mind,” the Fade denizen explained after coming back with mounds of hay, “They have too much of it anyways, and the hay will help break a fall.” Erik graciously took the piles and placed them all throughout the bottom of the cave before moving on.

The two of them found a crate and filled it with healing, stamina, and lyrium potions that Cole had ‘borrowed’. Erik didn’t question how he’d procured the concoctions, instead deciding just to go along with it. Next, they placed a thick woolen cloak in the crate, along with flint and torches. When they’d finished, they climbed back out and replaced the rotting planks.

“Why do we need to do this now?” Cole asked innocently. Erik’s visage grew stony and he stared at the newly-minted trebuchet a few feet away.

“Give it a couple of days, bud. All hell’s about to break loose, and I want to make sure my friend stays alive.”

Cole didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes turning slightly glazed instead. He finally looked at Erik once again with curiosity and cocked his head like a puppy.

“What’s a hell?”

* * *

The remaining week went by far too quickly. Evelyn almost felt the sands of time trickle by with each day as the bulk of the mages marched toward Haven. Josephine had received a letter a day prior to their arrival. Fiona had already selected the best and brightest of the mages under her command to aid Evelyn in sealing the Breach, and they would rest for a single day before beginning their attempt. Ser Barris, Cullen, and a kindly man from Starkhaven named Rylen had selected the thirty healthiest, most skilled Templars to suppress the Breach as well, and were now waiting with bated breath to march on the Veil tear.

The rapidly-approaching deadline for her day of reckoning wasn’t what was worrying her, though. Not entirely. What was worrying her was how tense Erik was. He hardly spoke to anyone but that spirit boy, Cole, and only in the early mornings or in the dead of night. During the days, he was either conducting sword training with Cassandra and Blackwall, conducting physical fitness exercises to that alien-sounding music of his, or conducting what he called ‘ready-up’ drills with his rifle. Occasionally he’d wander the village almost aimlessly, observing seemingly random things with a silent judgemental look. Sometimes he’d just curse instead.

It worried her more than anything. What did her friend - her brother - know that he wasn’t sharing? Would the closing attempt fail? Would more demons come raining from the Fade? Would a disaster hit Haven? Whatever it was, he was keeping tight-lipped, though he knew others saw it, as well. Leliana would observe him in an apprehensive and worried way, Cassandra would eye him suspiciously, and Cullen would often try to ask what Erik was doing, only to be brushed off by the Green Beret. It went on like this for eight days.

On the ninth, the mages arrived in Haven. They received no little fanfare; the common folk watched apprehensively as the army-sized group of thousands of mages strode their way into the Inquisition’s town. Hints of fear colored both the commoners and mages alike. But not all the mages were combat capable; some were too old, and some were still children clinging to the adults that had become their surrogate parents. Fiona was at the head of the mass of enchanters, walking tall and proud despite her slight build. She strode toward the center of town, where Evelyn, Erik, Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine awaited them.

“Herald,” Fiona greeted simply, “I thank you for welcoming us with such grace. We will not spoil this opportunity you have offered us.”

“For both our sakes, I pray you don’t,” Evelyn responded jokingly, “May I introduce the Inquisition’s leadership. Ser Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition’s forces. Lady Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador. Sister Leliana, our Spymaster. Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, our founder. And Staff Sergeant Erik Andersen, the man known as the Champion of Andraste.”

Fiona, to her credit, did not seem fazed at all; she merely nodded greetings to each of the men and women present. “A pleasure to meet you all. I would like to extend my gratitude to each of you, as well.”

“We welcome you to Haven, and we will do everything in our power to make your stay as hospitable as possible,” Josephine answered before anyone else could get a word in, “Is there anything we can do to make your integration into Haven more smooth?”

“Not much, to be honest,” the Grand Enchanter admitted, “We healed our injured on the road, and we have brought tents and supplies for ourselves. Mostly, our people are self-sufficient.”

“Your message said that you’ve already selected those that will assault the Breach with the Herald. Are they prepared for the task?” Cullen asked. Fiona simply nodded.

“They have been selected and are ready at your word. A day’s rest would be welcome, however.”

“Very well. Speak with Solas, the bald elven mage, and coordinate with him, if you would,” Cassandra added, “He has been preparing the magical ritual needed to amplify the mark’s power. I believe he has also coordinated with the former Knight-Templar Barris on their role, as well.”

Fiona’s eyes widened slightly. “The Templars are here?”

“The _former_ Templars are here,” Erik smoothed, “I raided Therinfal Redoubt to rescue what remained of the Templar Order at about the same time Evelyn went to Redcliffe. Most of them had already been corrupted by red lyrium. I managed to return with four hundred and two. The Templar order as it was is no more, and you probably outnumber them ten to one.” Evelyn noticed a muscle in Cullen’s neck jump slightly, but the Fereldan said nothing.

“I understand,” Fiona responded with apprehension, “As long as no aggression is turned toward those under my protection, we shall have no problems.”

“They are members of the Inquisition now, Grand Enchanter,” Leliana reminded her, finally speaking up, “Any attack on our allies will result in the perpetrator’s immediate expulsion from our organization.” Fiona nodded, seemingly pleased with their stance.

“I’ll inform my people of this development to prevent violence,” the elven woman decided, “Those who have been selected will be ready to assault the Breach in the morning. Will that be acceptable?”

“It will be,” Cassandra agreed. Fiona nodded once more and strode off without another word. The tension in the air was broken by a small chuckle from Evelyn’s left, and she turned to find Erik’s eyes full of mirth.

“That woman does not fuck around,” he laughed, “I like her.”

“Need I remind you she was a Grey Warden?” Leliana retorted, “That woman has likely seen horrors that would break most people.”

“She has,” Erik spoke, the joy in his voice drained, “Trust me. I know.” A bout of silence fell on the sextet. Erik turned toward Evelyn with a weighty look.

“Go get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day,” he said with finality. Evelyn crossed her arms in defiance.

“I’m not a child Erik. I know when I need rest.”

“I know. I just don’t want you to get hurt,” the offworlder assuaged, “As I said, tomorrow’s a big day.”

“Big enough for you to be running around like a madman all week?” she pressed.

“Just preparing for every eventuality, Ev,” he responded grimly as he walked away, “ _Every_ eventuality.” Another bout of silence followed his remark, only to be broken by Josephine.

“Is he expecting an attack?”

The air in the mountain village was tense the next morning as Evelyn strode toward the gates with Erik. The villagers and Inquisition members whispered with reverence as the duo passed, and Evelyn felt a twist of something like fear in her gut. _Not fear_ , she decided, _apprehension_. She glanced toward Erik briefly. 

The man she’d come to consider her sibling was dressed in full armor, his rifle slung lazily across his midsection and an eerily calm visage painted across his face. He made eye contact with no one as they marched to the hundred-and-fifty or so Templars and mages that had been chosen to accompany her to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Cassandra and Solas were waiting, as were Fiona and Barris. All in attendance looked as though they were beyond anxious.

“Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine have decided to remain behind to keep peace in the village,” Cassandra greeted, explaining the makeup of their group, “We will be accompanying you to the Temple.” Evelyn looked past her and noticed that Solas and Cassandra were not her only friends that would be accompanying them.

Everyone she and Erik had recruited stood ready. Varric, Blackwall, Sera, Vivienne, Iron Bull, Dorian… even the spirit boy, Cole. Evelyn adjusted her light armor shyly and smiled at her allies.

“Thank you for being here. All of you,” she praised, “It means more than you know.”

“Everyone’s here, Ev. Are you ready to become a legend?” Erik asked gently at her side as he took her hand. She gave him a warming smile and nodded; they left Haven and marched up the path to the Temple, a combined array of Templars and mages at their backs.

The mood that was cast over their procession was a somber and dedicated one. No one said a word as they marched up the mountain path. Evelyn and Erik led the way, and Cassandra fell in beside Erik, followed by Solas, Varric, Blackwall, Sera, Iron Bull, and Vivienne. Dorian trotted up last, and Cole was nowhere to be found, though Evelyn felt his presence nearby. 

Despite the size of their group, Evelyn reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes in half the time it took during her first excursion. Erik, Ser Barris, Fiona, and Solas began placing the Templars and mages along the ruins, facing the Breach. Once they were in place and prepared Cassandra, Erik, Solas, and Evelyn finally climbed down into the crater itself. Fiona and Barris stood to watch over the proceeding, stalwart and determined. As Evelyn approached the Breach, the mark began to flare angrily, seeming far more agitated since her little journey through time.

“Mages! Templars!” Cassandra bellowed, gathering the attention of both groups. They looked at each other and steeled themselves.

“Once she connects with the Breach, focus past the Herald,” Solas explained in a booming voice, “Let her will draw from you.” She turned toward Erik one last time.

“Anything I should know?” He gave her a smile.

“You’re going to close that thing,” he said with finality. She turned from him and looked up at the churning green maelstrom.

Evelyn took a deep breath and thrust her hand to the sky, willing it to close. Green tendrils of light shot from the mark and into the Breach. Swords and staffs plunged into the ground at the same moment, and a battle of wills began: hers against the sky’s. Evelyn struggled against the tear in reality, and she felt as though she were holding the sky from the land itself. The weight wasn’t unbearable, however. Others were carrying her burden, as well. She pushed the pain down into her core and crushed it, pushing one final time for the sky to seal itself.

The Breach grew brighter than the midday sun, then flashed. A wave of force sent all in attendance tumbling backward, and the mark quieted itself as the Marcher landed on her back. She felt a hand on her back begin to lift her slightly from the ground, and with every ounce of will Evelyn could muster, she forced herself to open her eyes.

The Breach was gone. The sky had been healed. She let out a small laugh of relief, and Erik kneeling at her side, pulled her upright. Solas checked briefly for wounds, then nodded once in approval.

“You did it,” Cassandra breathed, a genuine smile of relief spreading across her face.

* * *

To everyone else, celebrations were certainly in order. They returned from the Temple of Sacred Ashes late in the afternoon to a hero’s welcome and cheers of praise. For appearances' sake, Erik forced the most convincing smile he could on his face and gestured for Evelyn to celebrate with the townsfolk. As soon as all eyes were off of him, he slipped into his cabin and began to prepare. Each of his magazines were filled in silence, and Erik threw what little belongings he had into his bag and slung a cloak around his shoulders, masking the fact that he hadn’t taken his armor off. He wolfed down a quick meal and adjusted the weapons and battle belt on his hips as he strode through the town. He had no idea where to start with immediate preparations. He’d done all he thought he and Cole could: reinforce the crumbling eastern wall, give Evelyn as much of a means for survival as possible, preload and pre-aim the trebuchets in preparation for Corypheus’s inevitable assault, and subtly create choke points to make the enemy’s advance slower. But he still didn’t know what to do about the people themselves.

“Champion. I believe congratulations are in order,” a heavily accented voice spoke behind him. Erik turned to greet the owner of the voice; it seemed the Maker’s aid came in the form of Mother Giselle. He smiled and shook his head.

“It’s Evelyn that should be congratulated. She’s the one that closed it,” he brushed off.

“And yet without your support and efforts, she may have failed in her task,” Giselle pointed out. Erik gave a slightly unconvinced shrug, and a quick thought ran through his head.

“We should have a sermon held in thanks for the closing of the Breach,” he proposed. Giselle raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I did not know you were Andrastian. I was led to believe that our beliefs did not exist where you are from,” the Mother noted.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t respect that nearly everyone here is Andrastian. It would help to bring everyone together, and with the mages here, that’s exactly what we need.”

She gave a soft smile. “I believe that is an inspired idea, Champion. I shall inform the sisters that a sermon will be held in the evening.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he nodded. Another thought came to him and he strode off to find Iron Bull.

It didn’t take long to find the hulking Qunari. He was sitting outside the tavern next to a keg of ale, holding a tankard that seemed comically small in his massive hands. Most of the Chargers were around him, laughing and drinking jovially. Bull noticed Erik’s approach and tensed slightly, his jolly demeanor falling away. The rest of the Chargers felt the change in the air and became deathly serious.

“I need to talk with you, Bull. Urgently,” Erik spoke, brokering no debate. Bull stood without hesitation.

“I’ll be back, boys. Don’t get too far ahead on the booze without me,” the Ben-Hassrath called as they walked away. Erik led him to his cabin and closed the doors.

“If this is about the message thing, it won’t happen again,” Bull began. The offworlder shook his head.

“This isn’t about that. This is about something far, far worse,” Erik warned. Bull’s eye narrowed slightly in thought.

“This is about that foresight you supposedly have,” he surmised. Erik smiled and relaxed slightly.

“You are one smart fucking cookie, Bull,” he praised, “That’s exactly what this is about.”

“So why come to me?”

“Because you command an elite company of mercenaries,” Erik pointed out, “And as of three hours ago, we just started a war.”

“Haven is going to be attacked. And it’s going to be soon, or you wouldn’t have wanted to keep this little talk low key. You don’t want to start a panic,” he deduced. Erik nodded somberly.

“How big of a force is coming?” he asked.

“At least fifteen thousand. Possibly more.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Bull cursed harshly in Qunlat, “That’s why you didn’t warn them earlier. Nothing can prepare us for something that big. They’d want to run.”

“And if we run, they’ll give chase. We have to stand our ground and buy ourselves time,” Erik added. _Never say the man isn't intelligent_ , Erik thought, his respect for Bull increasing with every passing moment.

“I’ll give the word for my boys to stop drowning themselves in booze and gear up,” Bull stated with slight tension in his voice, “Thanks for the warning.”

Erik nodded. “I’m not your enemy, Bull. I’d very much like to be your friend. As a matter of fact, you’re probably the one person here that can most closely relate to what I’ve been through.” Bull looked at him thoughtfully.

“Tell you what. We make it through the night, and we’ll share stories over a few drinks,” the Qunari offered.

“I’d very much like that. Horns up, Bull. March to war.”

His final stop was Leliana’s tent. As he strode through the crowds of revelers lining the streets, he steeled himself for a potential tirade. Night had fallen, and he didn’t have much time to warn Leliana.

He found the spymaster easily enough; she hadn't moved from her tent at all. The Orlesian stood watching the celebrations, seemingly lost in thought. Erik strode up and threw an arm around her without a second thought.

“Walk with me, beautiful.” He pulled Leliana away from the crowds of people and toward a secluded area that he spotted near one of the corners of the village.

“Taking a girl to a dark corner of the village? People will start asking questions,” she jabbed.

“Just smile and play along, Leliana,” he murmured. Her face grew into the most convincing smile he’d ever seen and she leaned into him, snaking an arm around his waist slightly.

“If you’re here to warn me about my agents, I’ve already pulled them back,” she hummed. They took another step and Erik felt her brush against his plates. “You’re still wearing your armor. And you have weapons.”

“I’m sorry, Leliana. I never wanted to omit anything from you, but with this, I had no other choice,” he whispered sorrowfully as he felt the Spymaster tense at his side.

“We’re going to be attacked,” he explained, “It’s a force we can’t fight, but that if we run from will just give chase and destroy us where we don’t have any geographical advantage. We have to stand and fight, just for a bit.”

“Is this what you’ve been running around doing for the past week?” she asked, surprise bleeding into her voice. Erik nodded and gave her a slight squeeze as they passed a small group of people heading toward the Chantry.

“I shored up our defenses as much as anyone could feasibly ask. It’ll help prevent the loss of lives and buy us time. I warned Bull about twenty minutes ago. The sermon that’s about to happen was my idea, to get all the civilians into the Chantry.”

“You’re speaking as though we’re going to lose Haven,” Leliana realized. Erik’s heart dropped into his gut.

“That’s because we are,” he warned, “Fifteen thousand Red Templars are headed our way right now, coming from the south. They probably have some Venatori with them. Shit is seriously about to go down. This is no longer some petty dick-measuring contest between mages and Templars with collateral damage. The whole world is about to be plunged into war.” She broke from his one-armed embrace and turned to face him, her face steely and determined.

“When? When are we going to be attacked?” Her tone was demanding.

“As far as I know? Tonight.”

And then the sentry bells started ringing, and Erik realized they were out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Higher Than Hope by Nightwish - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO6_RblC5cQ
> 
> As I said in the prefacing notes, due to extenuating circumstances I had to push this chapter out as fast as I could. I'm already working on the next and I'm hoping to get it out by the end of the week, but it's getting a bit long so there's a chance it may be delayed a bit and I'll just split it in half.


	17. Our Fortress is Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elder One assaults Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first half of about a ten thousand word chapter. I decided to split it in two in order to make it easier to read. Second half is being edited.
> 
> Bioware owns the IP, the game, its dialogue, and the world.

Evelyn stood on the platform behind Leliana’s tent. The streets of Haven, filled with celebration just a few hours ago, now stood largely empty; an impromptu Chantry sermon was being held in celebration of the Breach’s closing. She knew she should probably be in there with the rest of the villagers and Inquisition, but found she couldn’t. A feeling in her gut told her something was deeply wrong. So she hadn’t drank and had only taken a short nap as her reward for finally closing the Breach.

Cassandra approached to her left. "Solas confirms the heavens are scarred by calm," she said as she stood beside Evelyn, "The Breach is sealed. We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory," She looked on approvingly, "Word of your heroism has spread."

Evelyn merely shook her head. “You saw how many were involved. Luck put me at the center.”

Cassandra half-smiled. "A strange kind of luck. I'm not sure if we need more or less. But you're right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory,” she turned to face Evelyn, “With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus."

She never managed to learn what Cassandra meant by that. The sentry bell began to ring. The feeling of dread in Evelyn’s gut became a pit that threatened to pull her in. Cullen rushed past, ordering the troops with a barking tone.

"Forces approaching! To arms!” he shouted. Evelyn turned to follow him, grateful she hadn’t changed out of her armor.

“We must get to the gates," Cassandra said hurriedly as she caught up with Evelyn and the Commander. “Cullen?”

"One watchguard reporting," he pointed across the valley, "It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

“Under what banner?” Josephine asked worriedly as she approached.

Cullen swallowed tentatively. “None.”

“None?” The shock in her voice was apparent.

“It’s the Red Templars,” Erik explained as he approached at a trot, Leliana and Cole trailing behind him, “They’re under the command of the Elder One, and they’ve come for us.”

A vein in Cullen’s forehead throbbed. “You _knew_ and didn’t tell us?” he nearly shouted.

“I did,” Erik snapped back, “What the fuck are you gonna do, Cullen? Those things out there are no longer human, and they’re being led by an entity that may as well be the principle of evil made flesh. There’s no way to prepare for the thrashing we’re about to receive. If we ran, they would have chased us and killed us all when we were exhausted. So I did everything in my power to minimize our losses.”

Mages and Templars began to brush past Cullen, who was, to Evelyn’s eyes, clearly not convinced. “What have you done to minimize losses outside of scrambling around Haven for a week?”

“He explained it all to me, Cullen,” came Leliana’s voice, sharp and cutting like a whip, “The Chantry sermon was his idea, to keep civilians away from the battle. You can argue with him now, or you can lead your men into battle and argue with him after you’ve both survived the night.”

“There,” Cole pointed to a point across the frozen lake. Evelyn turned and her heart dropped into her stomach. The far side of the valley was littered with glowing dots of fire, each of them likely a torch carried by a soldier. The first of the Elder One’s forces were only minutes away. And on an outcropping of stone in the middle of the lake stood… a man. And beside him, an entity that even from this distance, made her skin crawl. And was decidedly _not_ a man.

A single word was muttered from Erik’s mouth, full of hate. “Corypheus.”

“He’s _very_ angry you took his mages,” Cole told Evelyn. As if that explained anything to her.

“I recognize that man, but this Elder One, this ‘Corypheus’...” Cullen thought aloud. Evelyn decided she’d had enough of standing around. The enemy was literally at the gates.

“Cullen, give me a plan. Anything,” she demanded. His face screwed up for a moment as they marched through the gates with their forces.

"Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can," he motioned to the trebuchets dotting the area just outside the village and turned back to the soldiers massing at the gates. 

"Mages! Templars! You-- You have sanction to engage them. That,” he pointed to the man next to the Elder One as he drew his longsword, “Is Samson. He will not make it easy. Inquisition! With the Herald and the Champion! For your lives! For all of us!" A battle cry rose up from the soldiers around them as they prepared to defend Haven.

“That’s enough for me,” Erik said as he threw his muffs on and activated them, drawing the handle on his rifle back with a clanking sound, “Let’s fucking boogaloo.”

Evelyn followed her brother through the fresh snow as the sounds of combat began to rise all around her. She glanced to her rear and found every last one of those who had accompanied her to the Temple trailing them, weapons drawn and determination on their faces. She turned back forward to watch Erik bring his rifle to his shoulder and let loose a burst of rounds at a group of Red Templars, and she got her first legitimate look at the monsters.

They were no longer human, Erik had that much correct. But it was more than that. The noises coming from their mouth were certainly human, if more animalistic. Their movements were certainly human. But as she cut down a Red Templar that had advanced on her with a burst of fire, she noticed the eyes weren’t human; all traces of humanity had left them and were replaced by pure, animalistic, insane rage. There was no look of pain as she struck each one down efficiently, no look of shock as the life left their body. Only animalism. It was like putting down a pack of rabid dogs.

Evelyn moved to the first trebuchet, where Erik, Varric, Blackwall, and Cassandra were holding off a wave of the Red monsters with a company of Inquisition soldiers as Bull efficiently pointed the trebuchet toward… toward the mountain near the other end of the valley. She pushed the thought from her mind as she began to immolate, shock, and freeze the Red Templars swarming the siege engine, no regard for her personal exhaustion or her physical safety. She was there to protect her friends, the family she’d built for herself, and nothing else.

“Mage!” Erik called as he reloaded his weapon. Dorian, after cutting down a handful of Red Templars with chain lightning, launched a small bit of fire at the projectile loaded into the trebuchet. Evelyn turned and kicked the release, watching the flaming stone sail through the sky. For a moment, it seemed like everything stopped on the battlefield as all combatants traced the projectile’s trajectory.

Then it crashed into the mountainside with a sound mimicking thunder, and a cloud of snow was thrown into the air. The fresh powder of the mountainside began to race toward the approaching army in a white cloud of death. Countless torches were snuffed out just as Sera put an arrow through the skull of the last of the group of Red Templars attacking the trebuchet.

“Herald! Champion! The Red Templars took the second trebuchet before we could reach it. Captain Adaar’s company is engaging them now,” a messenger cried. Erik cursed and jerked his head toward the second trebuchet.

Evelyn broke into a sprint towards the second siege weapon. “Keep that fucker firing!” she shouted at the company left behind to man the trebuchet.

The battle became brutal quickly. Even between herself, Vivienne, Solas, and Dorian, along with the countless allied mages fighting alongside them, there didn’t seem to be enough mana between them all to keep everyone healed. Tainted and clean blood shed equally, staining the snow red. Still they advanced, only a handful of meters out from the second trebuchet. Evelyn spotted Adaar swinging her greatsword cleanly through several Red Templars at once, her face colored with some sort of war paint. A Dalish elf stood back to back with her, darting between enemies and stabbing them with efficiency and gruesome skill. The battle around the Vashoth’s company seemed to be dying down, but Evelyn and her companions darted in anyways to secure the victory. Between them and Adaar’s highly skilled, tight-knit unit, the second trebuchet was secured in minutes and another projectile was sent to bury the enemy forces in snow.

“Herah! How many did you lose?” Erik shouted over the din of the battle. The massive woman grunted and stabbed a squirming Red Templar through the gut.

“Just one. Lost him to one of the fast fucks,” she called back, her voice full of frustration, “There’s way too many of them. We’re going to be overrun soon.”

“We keep these trebuchets firing, and we’ll have a chance,” Bull countered. Erik winced, and Evelyn’s adrenaline wore off slightly as the pit in her stomach formed again.

“Right, about that… I forgot to mention-” Erik stopped mid sentence, his eyes turning into saucers as he launched himself into Dorian, sending them both into the snow several feet away.

A hellish shriek cut through the night air, and the trebuchet exploded in a ball of red flame, followed closely by the spot where Dorian was standing just moments before. Evelyn and everyone around her dove to the ground in shock as a figure with wings made of death soared above them and back into the sky.

“Holy fucking shit!" Erik screamed as he jumped to his feet, grabbing his rifle.

"Holy shit is right! Who ordered the end of the damn world?" Varric barked back. Evelyn stared at the dragon. She’d seen one before, if only from afar. This one seemed… off. Wrong. Its wings were partially torn and tattered, scales and flesh missing from its dark grey body. Its eyes were darkened pits that held red dots within, and if Evelyn listened closely, she could have sworn it was wheezing ever so slightly.

Evelyn’s observations were cut short, however, as soon as the tattered and seemingly Blighted dragon came around for a second attack. Herah dove out of the way, taking Vivienne and Cassandra with her, as Evelyn tackled Varric and Sera, as well. Bull yanked Blackwall from its line of fire, and Erik pulled Dorian a few feet further away from where the dragon was preparing to breathe its flame.

Some of the soldiers didn’t make it away in time, and Evelyn watched the flesh burn from their bones as they collapsed to the ground. The dragon kept breathing its unholy fire as it swept above Haven, setting the town ablaze.

“Get inside! Save the townsfolk!” she ordered.

* * *

Erik, for one, was rather enjoying himself. The sheer intensity of the battle caused a sense of clarity to wash over him, forcing all thought out of his mind as he almost entered a form of meditation. Shoot, repeat. Shoot, repeat. Shoot, reload, stab, repeat. On and on and on it went, his adrenaline never wearing off enough for his thoughts to be completely heard over his muscle memory of fighting. He, Evelyn, and their companions were cutting through Red Templars like butter, and though they started to tire as they reached the second trebuchet, they were still doing fine.

That is, until Erik remembered the dragon would show up. His thoughts came rushing back and he, in his words, ‘shit bricks’. He tackled Dorian out of the way as the trebuchet exploded, leaving a trail of splintered wood and scorched earth where they once stood. As he dragged the Tevinter away from the line of fire, he vaguely remembered screaming an obscenity and staring at the flying monstrosity in awe.

It had the wingspan of a C-130 and scales that looked tougher than steel. Its teeth, from what he saw, looked about as inviting as a woodchipper, and it spat fire hot enough to melt the stone they were standing on. _Just when you think you’ve seen it all, life throws a fire-breathing dragon at you_ , he thought cynically. He was snapped out of his slightly awed reverence of the tainted apex predator’s wake of destruction by Evelyn’s rallying call to aid the townsfolk that didn’t attend the Chantry service, and he sprung into action once again. As he sprinted inside, he passed Cullen standing at the gate, dozens of dying and dismembered Red Templars at his feet.

"Move it, move it!" Cullen did one last sweep of the surroundings, and after a nod from Herah and Erik, the Commander slammed the gates shut.

"We need everyone back to the Chantry. It's the only building that might hold against..." Cullen swallowed hard, "That beast. At this point..."

He gazed at the circling monstrosity. "Just make them work for it."

The eleven of them cut and shot their way through the invaders in Haven. Lysette was the first one they saved, mowing down a squad of Red Templars that had cornered her inside the Singing Maiden. He and Bull sprinted into the burning building, lifting a plank that, thankfully, hadn’t yet burned off the barmaid before Erik passed the injured woman off to Bull, who carried her toward the Chantry. They moved on through the scorched and scarred village, cutting down anything that flashed sickeningly red, in almost deathly silence. Erik had long since switched to his blades, his rifle slung snugly behind his back. They came across Minaeve, the creature researcher that worked out of Josephine’s office, and Adan, just as the pots of explosive material they were surrounded by began to be licked by flames. Erik dragged the two of them out of the way just in time for Solas to throw up a barrier as the explosive pots burst, and Erik dragged Adan and an unconscious Minaeve away before the fire consumed them. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed Threnn, the quartermaster, helping a wounded Seggrit to his feet, leading him into the Chantry. Erik, Blackwall, and Cassandra began clearing the last of the Red Templars out of the entryway to the place of worship, and Erik had to duck as an arrow flew by his head, narrowly missing him over his shoulder; he glanced into the Chantry and saw Sera shoot him an apologetic look.

Roderick was just inside, being held up by Cole. It was clear he was bleeding from a wound in his side, but he remained resolute. "Move! Keep going, the Chantry is your shelter." As soon as the last of the civilians and combatants were within the nave, Erik and Cullen slammed the doors shut as Cole set the bleeding Chancellor down.

Cole looked sadly between Erik and Evelyn. "He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He's going to die."

Roderick laughed weakly. “What a charming young lad.”

Erik thought for a moment. It was never clear how bad the wound was in the game, but knowing Thedas, basic first aid wasn’t widely known. He knelt and looked intently at the wound. The stab wound was certainly bleeding, but it was oozing, not gushing blood. He would survive if Erik acted quickly. Erik grabbed a dagger from Cole and heated it over a torch, then burned the flesh with the hot dagger to sterilize it. The crude method elicited a cry of pain from the Chancellor. But pain was the patient’s problem, not his, and Erik grabbed some gauze from the first aid kit on his belt - one of his few medical supplies from back home - and packed the wound in an almost crossing motion.

"Keep pressure on it. If that wound soaks with blood, find a clean cloth and repack it. Find a magical healer, if you can," Erik instructed Cole, "I'm not skilled enough in trauma care to help him any more in his current state." The spirit nodded in understanding.

"Herald, Champion," Cullen rushed toward them as Erik approached Evelyn’s side, "Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

Leliana approached, covered in dirt and grit but otherwise unhurt. Vivienne placed a hand on Roderick’s wound and began to cast some rudimentary healing magic. The bleeding slowed, but didn’t stop completely.

"I've seen an Archdemon," Cole said as he held Roderick, putting pressure on the stab wound as he spoke, "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

“As have I. It looks remarkably similar to the one during the Blight,” Leliana agreed.

"I don't care what it looks like," Cullen snapped, "It’s cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven."

A wave of shocked murmurs and cries came from the civilians crowded in the back of the nave. Leliana and Erik simultaneously shot Cullen an angry look.

Cole shook his head and tilted his giant hat back, "The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald."

“Then he’ll have me,” Evelyn decided without a moment’s pause. Erik closed his eyes and took a deep, apprehensive breath.

“Evelyn, you cannot go back out there. You’ll die,” Leliana pleaded.

"Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide," Cullen pointed out, "We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that chance."

Erik was about to inform them of the alternate route out of Haven when Chancellor Roderick started to mumble incoherently. Cole nodded. “Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it while we still have time."

The man looked at Erik and Evelyn wearily. "There is a path. You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. The people can escape. _She_ must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could..." Evelyn knelt down next to the man and grasped his hand, "Tell you."

“Roderick, are you sure about this path?” Erik asked. He knew it was supposed to exist, but he had to be absolutely sure before Evelyn went out on her suicide run.

"It was whim that I walked the path,” he explained, “I did not mean to start - it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers... I don't know, Champion. If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. _The two of you_ could be more."

Evelyn looked at the Commander. “Cullen?”

He nodded. "It could work. _If_ he shows us the path. We’ll send a signal up when everyone is safe. But what of your escape?”

Evelyn gave a slight shake of her head. Cullen swallowed thickly and gave a sorrowful nod. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way,” without another word, the former Templar turned to the soldiers in the Chantry, "Inquisition. Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry. Move."

“Andraste guide you, my Herald,” Roderick offered as he was lifted to his feet and carried away. Evelyn took a deep breath and began to march resolutely toward the Chantry’s doors. Erik made a split-second decision.

“Evelyn!” She stopped and turned in apprehension. Erik trotted up, loading his last fresh magazine into his rifle.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Erik, that’s insane! We can’t afford to lose both of you,” Leliana barked with a hint of fear in her voice.

“If Evelyn goes out there alone, there’s a good chance she dies before she can bring down the mountain,” he explained, “She’ll have an easier time with another person.”

Leliana looked as though she wanted to say something, but merely clenched her fists and turned sharply away, walking quickly to catch up with the retreating Inquisition. Erik’s stomach churned in hollow regret, and he tore his eyes from the withdrawing Orlesian. Evelyn gave a slight nod to him, and as one they stepped out into the mountain night.

“Stupid things like this seem to be in your job description,” Evelyn jabbed as they broke into a trot, swinging her staff at a Templar Horror as she did so. Erik put a round into another one scaling the walls.

“It kind of is,” he laughed.

* * *

Evelyn ran as fast as she could through the burning village, killing Red Templars left and right as she did. She felt the air snap behind her and glanced to her left to see a Red Templar fall, the thing’s blade held aloft in the air not two feet from her. Evelyn returned the favor for Erik and froze an enemy that leapt from a rooftop, watching with grim satisfaction as it shattered against the wintery ground. Exhausted though she was, the now-familiar adrenaline of combat held the worst of the creeping fatigue away, and her mind was taught as a bowstring as she darted away from the Chantry, Erik only a step behind her. She knew she was almost certainly going to die. But she wasn’t afraid. Sad, to be sure, but more for her friend that had been dragged into this situation and world without a say. She hoped his soul would find its way back home in the end.

“The last siege engine is by a mineshaft on the east side of town,” Erik called as he ran through the last of the Red Templars blocking their path. Evelyn could still see the majority of the army marching across the lake, and above them the Blighted dragon, but they had time. She spotted the last siege engine peeking up far behind the burnt-out shell of the Singing Maiden; it was, by the grace of the Maker or whoever else, intact. She held guard for Erik as he grabbed the crank, turning it as quickly as possible towards the mountainside behind Haven. Once it was locked in place, she cranked the counterweight up with a huff and locked it in place, and waited.

A horrifying roar came, and Evelyn instinctively jumped in a random direction with Erik as more dragonfire burned the ground where they were standing. The dragon landed near her, and she realized she had left her staff on the trebuchet platform. She yanked Erik to his feet and stood defiantly with lightning in her hands as the Tainted beast snarled at them, then stopped. Erik tapped her shoulder, and she turned slowly.

The monster she could only conclude was the Elder One was too tall, at least ten feet tall and terribly disproportionate, as though he’d been stretched for months by a pair of ogres. Red lyrium grew from its forehead and jaw, and its lips were pulled tight, giving it an evil, ghastly look. The creature’s fingers were long and pointed like arrowheads, and despite its completely wrong proportions and skeletal appearance, it walked with purpose. The monster strode through the flames as if they were flowers.

" ** _Pretenders_** ," The massive darkspawn-like being spoke with a deep, rich, and sinister voice, " **You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more**."

Evelyn laughed smugly, hiding the terror building in her belly. “So we toy with them. Make me stop. I’m not afraid of you.”

He shook his head, almost sympathetically and almost like a person, sending a chill of horror down her spine. " **Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies** ," the Elder One strode towards the duo far too quickly, " **Know me; know what you have pretended to be**." He spread his arms, one hand holding a jet black sphere. 

" **Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus** ," the Elder One pointed a gnarled finger, " **You will kneel**."

Erik barked a laugh shifted slightly in place. “No, thank you.”

" **You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not** ," Corypheus croaked as he held up the orb, " **You, ‘Champion’, are inconsequential. Your appearance in the ritual and subsequent disrespect were a surprise, to be sure, but ultimately had no effect. Your foresight holds no truth, and you will die here without a marker for your grave.** ”

He turned toward Evelyn, raising one gnarled hand. **“My true purpose in destroying this pathetic village lies with you, girl. I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now**." 

The orb glowed red, and Evelyn’s mark flared, shooting indescribable pain throughout her body as she dropped to her knees and saw stars. Erik was quick to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder and taking her weight. He said something, but it was muffled by the agony burning through her limbs and her head.

" **It is your fault, 'Herald'. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I don't know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens** ," Corypheus spoke, his voice feeling slightly more distant, " **And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The** **_gall_** **!** "

“Didn’t mean to ruin your diabolical plan. Sorry,” Evelyn grunted sarcastically through gritted teeth. The pain suddenly stopped and the creature rushed at them with alarming speed, swatting Erik aside like one would to a horsefly or mosquito before grabbing Evelyn by the left wrist and hoisting her up with shocking strength. Despite wanting to glance toward where Erik had been thrown and ensure her brother was still breathing, she forced herself to look into the face of evil.

 **"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption-- dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this Blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the Throne of the Gods,** **_and it was empty_**." 

The horrific face before her twisted into a snarl as Corypheus flung Evelyn towards the trebuchet as though she were a filthy rag. She crashed into it and felt a pop in her shoulder, smacking her head slightly as she hit the platform next to Erik’s slumped but breathing form.

“ **The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your** **_stumbling_** ," Corypheus snarled, “ **So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation - and god - it requires. And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You both must die**."

Evelyn stood and kicked her staff up from where it lay, somehow managing to grab it even with the pain in her body. Her shoulder was clearly dislocated, but she held the staff aloft anyways as the bone popped back into its socket painfully. Both Corypheus and his dragon slowly approached.

A flaming arrow shot into the air, far behind both Corypheus and her intended target. She smiled wryly, knowing her friends were safe. They were all safe, and what she was about to do wouldn’t be in vain.

“Your arrogance blinds you. Good to know. We are not going to die today. You’ll face us all, on _our_ terms.” Evelyn turned toward the release, hearing the telltale _crack_ of Erik’s rifle at the same time. The dragon screamed in outraged pain as she kicked the catch, and Corypheus watched in stunned confusion while the projectile flung through the air, slamming into the mountainside with a thunderous clap and sending the snow down much faster than Evelyn had hoped. Erik launched to his feet, wrapping his arms around her as he leapt toward the nearby mine shaft, pulling her with him as he smashed back-first through the rotted wood.

They bounced and tumbled through the abandoned passage, the roar of the avalanche approaching above them. The last thing she heard was the furious shriek of the dragon before Evelyn struck her head once more and lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note. Boogaloo is, at the end of the day, a meme that some dipshits take way too seriously. Seriously, it's Poe's law in motion. Those I work with typically use it to mean combat in general, and usually in a joking manner (because we're really just manchildren).
> 
> Chapter is named for Our Fortress is Burning by Agalloch - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOKcfyo3-xE  
> I have yet to find the full 18-minute song on Youtube, but the last 7 minutes is just a noise outro.


	18. Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Erik take a nature walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second half of the mega-chapter. It was longer but I pared the unnecessary bs down. From here on out I have absolutely no clue when chapters will go up. It'll happen when I can post it.
> 
> All dialogue and characters from the game are owned by Bioware/EA

Evelyn woke with a start to find she was lying on a bale of hay, Erik by her side. She was in a cavern of some sort, with high walls coated in thin layers of blue ice. Very little natural light met her eyes, but her mark was glowing a bright green.

“Hey you, you’re finally awake,” Erik croaked by her side, “How’re you feeling?” She glanced at him. One cheek was slightly bruised, and shallow cuts and scrapes littered the exposed bits of his skin. His armor lay in a pile not far from them, clearly in bad shape.

Everything came rushing back. The assault on Haven, the dragon, facing Corypheus and falling down the cavern. She glanced up; the snow from the avalanche had sealed the tunnel they’d unceremoniously entered through, though she figured that was honestly a good thing. It meant nothing else could get in, either.

“What happened? Is everyone…” she trailed off in a cough as her throat scratched and her head throbbed.

“Drink this,” he offered, holding a vial to her lips. It tasted of elfroot, sage, and raspberry, and she recognized the taste as a healing potion. Her throat calmed and the pounding in her head went away, slowly but surely.

“Better?” he asked. Evelyn simply nodded and propped herself up on an elbow.

“What about you? Are you hurt?” 

Erik shrugged. “Broke a rib during the fall, cracked another when that asshole swatted me like he was an abusive father, and I broke my arm at some point, too. Don’t know when. I woke up an hour ago and set it before drinking a potion. It’s tender, and I’m still bruised up, but I’m alright.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your spine, the way you threw yourself down the mineshaft,” she pointed out.

“And you’re lucky you didn’t end up breaking your skull open like an egg. If Cole and I hadn’t put the hay here, we probably both would have died.”

“You put this here?” she asked, picking up a handful of the golden straw with sore hands.

“Yep. We put the potions down here, too, and the cloak. It was originally meant just for you, but…” Erik trailed off and gestured to himself.

“Erik, those potions could have been used in the battle,” she sighed exasperatedly.

“Don’t give me that. We have underground connections to the Carta for our lyrium. We ended the Mage-Templar War. The Inquisition is no longer all bark and no bite; it could spare nine potions and a blanket.”

Evelyn had to admit, he was right. He was an ass, but he was right. She began to shiver and Erik grabbed the thick wool cloak, letting out a grunt as he did so.

“Get close,” he said as he threw the wool around both of them. She shifted her body into his side and grabbed the mantle, pulling it tight around them. They sat in silence for several minutes, simply trying to get warm under the cloak. After nearly thirty minutes, they were far warmer than before.

“We should probably get moving,” Evelyn noted.

“If you want to get up, by all means. I’m fucking exhausted and there’s a blizzard going on right now. We’ll die if we leave.”

“How did I get out in the story you know?” she asked. Erik bit his lip in thought and furrowed his brow.

“You ended up walking through the blizzard. But it’s not clear how long you wait beforehand. Coming from a guy who’s been in blizzards, the one that was described wasn’t super terrible, and it stopped before you found the rest of the Inquisition, meaning you probably caught the tail end of it.”

“Fine, then. We’ll sit here for a while.” Not that she minded. Erik was incredibly warm, and the massive cloak he and Cole had left only made it that much balmier. She let random thoughts float in and out of her mind until one crucial one stuck.

“You knew who Corypheus was,” she realized in slight horror. He nodded.

“Meaning you’ve known for months what happened at the Temple.” He nodded again, this time appearing full of guilt.

“Why? Why keep that from us?”

“Corypheus couldn’t be found,” he explained, “I doubt even Leliana could have tracked him down, and I guarantee no one would have believed me if I introduced the being that killed the Divine as ‘that villain that Marian Hawke killed in _Tale of the Champion_ ’. It would have sounded ridiculous.”

She thought for a moment before speaking. “Fine, I’ll give you that. Tell me what you know about him.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Who he is, for starters,” she decided, “ _What_ is he?”

“Corypheus is a Darkspawn Magister. One of the seven Magisters Sidereal that breached the Fade twelve hundred years ago and came back with the Blight.”

She knew all too well what he was talking about. It was the entire reason people feared and hated her kind, and it was the entire reason that Thedas suffered from the Blight at all. She thought back to her encounter with the horrifying entity.

“He said he had seen the Throne of the Gods, and that it was empty,” she recalled, “What did he mean by that?”

Erik sighed. “When Corypheus was released from his prison in the Vimmark Mountains, he ranted and raved about the Golden City, and how it was supposed to be theirs. Then he said that the Golden City was already black when they got there.”

Evelyn let out a breath in shock. What Erik was saying was not only blasphemy, it could possibly shake the foundations Thedas was built on.

“What do you mean, it was already black?” she asked in a slightly hushed tone, as if to avoid anyone hearing.

“The Golden City was never corrupted by the Magisters’ sin. It was already corrupted when they entered it, and they just brought the corruption back with them.”

“What does that mean? That the Chant of Light is wrong?”

“That’s absolutely what it means,” he agreed before stopping for a moment, “Religion and myth often have truth woven in. But history is written by the victor, and the truth can be twisted to fit an agenda. The truth is that the Magisters Sidereal didn’t start the Blights with their sin. The fact of the matter is that the Magisters were tricked into going into the Black City by the Old Gods, who probably already knew what was inside.”

“But why? What _is_ the Black City, if it isn’t the corrupted seat of the Maker?” she pressed.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “The story I was told hadn’t gotten that far by the time I arrived here. But I don’t think it’s the seat of the Maker. There was a pretty popular theory among fans about what the Black City really is that had been around since the first ga- book.” Evelyn brushed off his little stumble and kept pressing on.

He took a deep breath. “The theory says that the Black City is actually the ancient Elvhen city of Arlathan.”

“That’s insane,” she laughed, “Why would anyone think that? Arlathan was destroyed by Tevinter.”

“Was it?” he asked in a slightly ethereal tone. Evelyn thought for a moment, then another. Then a stone fell into her stomach.

“You’re sort of scaring me, Erik.”

“Trust me, once this is all over, I’ll explain everything I know. You’ll have seen enough of the world by then to believe everything I say.”

Evelyn fell silent after Erik’s explanations for nearly an hour. As she drifted off into sleep, she asked two more questions.

“Corypheus is trying to become a god, isn’t he? To go back to the Black City and achieve divinity?”

“Yes, he is.” She slid slightly closer to him, pulling the cloak tighter to keep warmth in.

“Will we stop him?”

She didn’t hear his answer.

* * *

“Erik, wake up.” He stirred awake and found Evelyn kneeling next to him.

“Let’s go. It’s been a few hours; we should get moving.” Erik grunted in agreement and slowly pulled himself upright. His battered joints popped in protest, and he really wished he had an Advil for his knee. Still, he felt better than he did when he first woke. Which meant he felt like normal shit, rather than steamrolled elephant shit.

“We should grab the potions before we go,” he suggested, “Never know when we’re going to need them.” She nodded and stuffed them into her belt before uncorking a lyrium potion and drinking it down. Erik reached over to where he sat his rifle against the cavern wall and slung it.

“Did that thing survive?” Evelyn asked curiously.

‘Yep. I’ll probably have to re-zero the sight, but everything’s still in one piece,” he confirmed.

“Your people build to last, apparently.”

They lapsed into relative silence as they walked through the cavern, both of them huddled under the cloak. His legs were protesting the movement slightly, and his knee moreso, but they pressed on regardless.

“What did you do to that dragon?” Evelyn asked after several minutes.

“I shot it in the eye. Just one last ‘fuck you’ before we dropped a mountain on that asshole.” Evelyn let out a small laugh and relaxed slightly.

“Well, it certainly startled Corypheus,” she noted, “I don’t think he expected us to really injure his Archdemon.”

“Yeah, well, we’re full of surprises, aren’t we?” Erik chuckled. His breath caught immediately after and he grabbed Evelyn’s shoulder, yanking her back from the gaggle of demons he should have remembered would be present. She hissed in shock and pain, and the demons noticed their presence. A chorus of shrieks and gurgling growls rose up instantly, and Erik went for his sword.

Evelyn moved faster, seeming to throw her left hand up out of instinct. The air shimmered, rippled, and then split open in a flash of sickly green. Every one of the Fade denizens began to scream, their bodies being pulled apart piece by piece, thrashing as they were pulled into the void. Erik even felt the pull, as well, a tugging feeling behind his navel that made his head spin and bile rise up in his throat. Then, as quickly as the nausea came, it was gone, and the Veil snapped back shut.

“That was fucking cool, but don’t ever do that around me again,” Erik grunted, “It made me nauseous as hell.”

“Really? I didn’t feel anything, aside from the usual tug of the mark… or Anchor. Whatever this thing is called,” Evelyn spoke in a slightly worried tone. Erik thought about it for a moment, unsure what to make of the nausea.

“It’s probably nothing. I’m not from Thedas, remember? Probably just a reaction to the Fade.” Evelyn didn’t argue, and he was grateful for it. He didn’t want to get into postulating about why a Fade rift made him nauseous.

“I don’t even know what in the Void I did,” she mumbled after a moment, “It was just instinct.”

“The Anchor is like a key,” Erik explained absentmindedly as they walked, “It can open rifts and close them.”

“So you’re saying I can just enter the Fade physically if I wanted to?” Erik nodded apprehensively.

“I would advise against that,” he warned, “I have no idea if you can open a rift on the other side.”

“Duly noted,” she murmured. She fell silent not long after, for they had reached the mouth of the cavern.

It was still certainly blizzarding outside, but it wasn’t horrible. Erik had snowboarded in worse. Of course, by his own admission, he was also an idiot, but it was survivable, and that’s all that mattered.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he shouted over the gusts of wind, “Stay close to me. I have no idea how far we have to walk.” Evelyn gave a nod as she squinted into the wind and snow, pulling the cloak tighter around both of them. Thus began their long, tumultuous trek through the snow. It was difficult, no doubt about it. But it had to be done. Just like the Trek at the end of Selection, he just had to put one foot in front of the other until it was done.

The wind was biting and he actually felt his eyelashes start to freeze as they kept moving. Erik doubted it was cold enough to get contact frostbite, even with the wind chill, but he covered their bodies as much as possible to be safe.

It went like that for hours. His boots had long soaked through, and he stopped feeling his feet after they passed the second dead campfire that was likely from the Inquisition. Why the idiots hadn’t buried the pits in the snow to mask their retreat was beyond him, but he was just glad that he and Evelyn had a bit of a trail to follow.

The wind finally died at about the four-hour mark, and they both huffed a sigh of pained relief as the skies cleared, revealing a kaleidoscope of stars and two full moons hanging in the sky. _I’ll never get used to seeing two moons,_ Erik thought in bitter amusement.

“Erik?” Evelyn panted, downing a stamina potion before passing one to him, which he took gratefully.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about yourself, please. Just to take my mind off this.” Erik thought for a moment. Despite his sibling-like attachment to the Marcher, she really did know barely anything about him, other than that he’d been a soldier for the better part of a decade.

“What do you want to know?”

“...Everything.”

He let out a small laugh. “Alright. Well, my parents were immigrants. My mother was from Norway and my father was from Sweden. I was born just outside a city called Long Beach on March 3rd, 1991…”

* * *

Erik talking about his life helped take her mind off the fact that she was bone-tired. She learned that he grew up in a temperate region called California, and that his mother was something called a biologist and his father worked as a ‘chemist’. They had met during a work conference and were married less than a year after. Erik was born a year after that and was their only child. His mother died of a disease when he was seventeen, and his father committed suicide ten months after he had gone off to university. Unable to cope with his father’s death, Erik had left university and joined his country’s military in hopes of building a new family of sorts. Not long after his basic combat training and a training course he called ‘Airborne School’, he attended selection for Special Forces.

“I wasn’t really supposed to get selected, if I’m being completely honest,” Erik admitted, “I was way too young.”

“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked, barely noticing the pain in her left hand or the needle sensation on the tip of her nose.

“SF typically selects older people due to maturity,” he explained, “When I got to 3rd Group, I was the youngest guy on my team by six years. My Team Sergeant was almost twice my age. Getting selected at twenty is pretty much unheard of.”

He kept explaining his time in the military. How he became a communications expert - a skill that had little value here due to the lack of the technology - and how he’d been at war nearly constantly afterward. He glossed over some of the more important details, she was sure, but it was more than enough to sate her curiosity and distract her from the absolute misery they were experiencing.

Finally, nearly seven hours after they departed the cavern and completely dry of all potions, they spotted one last fire pit… but this one was different.

“Erik, this one has embers in it,” Evelyn nearly shouted.

“We’re close,” he smiled, “Come on. We’re almost done.”

They were not, in fact, almost done. As it turned out, they continued to hike up the Maker-forsaken mountain for an hour more with no end in sight. As they closed in on the peak, Evelyn stumbled and nearly collapsed face-first into the snow before Erik caught her.

“Get up, Ev. I can’t Samwise Gamgee your Frodo Baggins-ass up this mountain,” he grunted.

“I have no idea what that even means,” she replied, her voice wavering as she felt a tear freeze on her cheek.

“We’re going to keep moving,” her brother said resolutely as he gripped her shoulders, his face basked in the eerie green glow of the Anchor.

“We’re going to keep walking until we’ve found the rest of the Inquisition.”

“What if we never find them? What if we wander on this _fucking_ mountain until we die?” she asked in despair and exhaustion. His face twisted into a determined frown, but she could still see the weariness in his eyes.

“Then we’ll have died fighting.” He pulled her upright and they marched on.

They were a hundred meters from the peak.

Then they were fifty, and her legs were too tired to even protest anymore as they trudged through the thigh-high snow.

Then twenty-five. Erik let out a pained grunt next to her, his lips blue and chapped and his eyes sunken.

Ten meters, and Evelyn used the last bit of her strength to surge up the slope, praying their comrades were waiting for them on the other side.

Then they were at the peak, the first streaks of greyish pink dawn painting the clouded sky. And at the bottom of the slope before them, Evelyn could see a massive camp on the other side of the ridgeline, campfires and tents dotting the small basin. She heard a handful of shouts as they crested the ridge, and four or five figures began running toward them. Cassandra, she thought, and Blackwall in his Grey Warden armor. Sera led the group, her bow drawn. It looked like Dorian was with them, too, using his magelight to illuminate the slopes. She instantly recognized the last one as Cullen, fur mantle and all, and she had never been so relieved to see a Templar in her life.

“There! It’s them!” she heard him shout.

“Thank the Maker,” came Cassandra’s relieved reply. Evelyn dropped to her knees in exhaustion, silent tears of joy streaming down her face. Erik collapsed next to her and clasped his hand on her shoulder.

“Told you,” he sniffed. She wasn’t sure if he was crying or if it was from the cold, but she didn’t care. Cullen was in front of her as she began to fall further into the fresh powder, and his strong arms lifted her from the frigid ground. Evelyn nuzzled her face against his fur mantle and relaxed, every fiber of her being completely drained.

“Erik?” she asked, turning her face slightly toward where her surrogate brother was being lifted from the snow by Blackwall and Cassandra.

“Yeah, Ev?” came his croaked reply.

“That was bullshit.” Erik’s only response was an airy laugh, and Evelyn curled further into Cullen’s chest as her eyes shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to put the Skyrim reference in at the beginning. I regret nothing.
> 
> Chapter is named for Nightfall by Blind Guardian - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrEm8jMC5Q8
> 
> I'm 100% convinced the Black City is actually Arlathan. It makes too much sense not to be.


	19. The Script for My Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik confronts hostility. Evelyn confronts the cult she accidentally founded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look I still have wifi.

Pain. Aching pain all over his body was the first thing that Erik felt, followed by the feeling of wool wrapped around his body. The coarse bandages around his left foot came next. Incidentally, he did not feel the angry barking in his left knee; it was the first time in four years he hadn’t woken up with the metaphorical thorn in his side. His eyelids felt heavy and his hands felt like two balloons. He chuckled slightly at the last feeling, recalling the classic song from his old life.

“I have become, comfortably numb,” he hummed slightly in a voice rougher than cracked mud, a slight smirk twinging across his lips as he opened his eyes with force.

He was in a tent, three small lanterns illuminating the canvas overhead. The sky was dark outside, the last bits of the sun’s rays giving way to an ocean of silver pinpoints in the heavens. He glanced down toward his body; it was covered in thick woolen blankets, and he was resting on a slightly raised cot. Despite his wakefulness, he found he either didn’t have the energy or the will to move. Turning his head with great effort revealed a figure slumped forward on the right side of the cot, bobbed red hair sprawled across the blue sheets as it flowed from a dark violet hood.

He shifted slightly in surprise at Leliana’s presence, and she bolted upright with a slight gasp. Her eyes were bleary and her clothes were shifted awkwardly. The spymaster’s almost trademark leather gloves were shockingly absent, he noticed, as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The Orlesian’s face was confused and panicked for a moment before their eyes met, and her face suddenly fell into a concerned frown.

“You are the most insufferable man I have ever met,” she almost growled. Erik tried to speak, but he fell into a coughing fit instead. His lips were quickly met by a small cup of water, and he drank deeply before trying to speak once more.

“Not the greeting I was hoping for, honestly,” he said, his voice still dry and croaky. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and gave him an odd glance.

“And what were you hoping for?” she asked in a slightly tried tone.

“Well, a kiss would have been nice,” he shot with a wry smile. Leliana gave a huff and rolled her eyes.

“You left with suicidal abandon, and when you return to us you expect a kiss?” she asked incredulously, “You nearly died, Champion.”

Her use of his unwanted title made him wince slightly, the twinge in his chest only held back by the look of remorse on the Orlesian’s features. He tried sitting up and immediately decided it was a bad idea.

“I’ve been through worse,” he defended after a moment of silence.

“Really? You’ve been through worse than a mountain falling on you, hypothermia, and injuries that caused trouble for even a spirit healer?”

“I’ve been shot four times, Leliana,” he explained, “I’ve been blown up twice - well, three times, now that I think of it. I have a permanent metal bar in my left thigh, I walked thirty-two miles on a broken foot with eighty pounds on my back just to get into my unit, and I jumped out of a helicopter into a river in the middle of combat. After I got shot in the arm.”

She fell into a silence that seemed to drag on forever, and he felt a twist in his gut. What the hell was he thinking?

“That doesn’t mean the concern isn’t appreciated,” he added weakly. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the cot and her forearms on his thigh, her face rubbing her hands slightly.

“Erik, we almost lost both you and the Herald. If you had died, I would've -” she stopped suddenly and snapped her mouth shut; his face twisted in a myriad of emotions that Erik couldn't quite place.

“You would have what?” She didn’t respond. He sighed and worked his hand from under the covers to place it on her knee in comfort. She flinched slightly at the contact but didn’t shy away.

“I didn’t die. Neither did Evelyn.”

“But it was absolutely unnecessary!” Leliana nearly shouted, “Sacrificing yourself for a cause that you don’t even really have a connection to in a world that isn’t your home is perhaps the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You chased an Archdemon through a burning city,” he pointed out. She blinked in surprise before letting out a small giggle that sent his stomach dancing.

“Touché.” Erik gave her a warm smile and thought about how to explain his actions.

“Do you know what my unit’s motto was?” he asked rhetorically, " _De Oppresso Liber_. To Liberate the Oppressed. Even if I'm no longer on Earth, I intend to uphold that to the best of my ability. If that means facing down a monster that would burn down a village full of innocents just to get to a single woman, then that’s what I’ll do. The people here? Their lives mean more to me than my own does. _Your_ life means more to me than mine does. If I had to face the same choice right now, to face Corypheus and go through absolute hell to protect you and everyone else in this camp, I’d do it again without question.”

She was silent for a long time after that, and Erik forced himself up on his elbows despite the protests of his aching muscles. Finally, after nearly two minutes of silence, she drew herself onto the cot, her leg pressed against his as she twisted to face him.

“You really think that little of your life?”

Erik shook his head. “It’s not that my life matters less. It’s that my career may demand that sacrifice someday. I learned that when I lost my best friend. If I have to die in the dark so that others may live in the light, then I’ll welcome that death with open arms.” He wet his chapped lips and watched Leliana’s eyes as she tried to reconcile what he tried to explain.

“Do you honestly think I’m any more innocent than you? I’ve done things that no one would be proud of.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he agreed solemnly, “But you’re a special woman, Leliana. I know that you’ve only done the things you’ve done because you care. More than anyone else here, probably. You wouldn’t have stayed here while I was unconscious if you didn’t. I know that past the facade you’ve built up, there’s still the woman that loves music and stories and finds hope in the bleakest times. I’d gladly lay down my life to keep that woman alive.”

Her face twisted slightly, and Erik was worried he’d said the wrong thing. But then she gave him a heartwarming smile that reached her eyes, and the tension in his body dissipated slightly.

“Well, I’m flattered you think so highly of me, at least,” she admitted. Then she did something Erik absolutely did not expect.

She leaned in and planted her lips softly onto his.

Erik was so shocked he completely forgot all about his injuries. It was like he was struck with a hundred million volts of electricity; the sensation of her lips brushing against his cheek months ago paled in comparison to what he was feeling. He didn’t know how to respond, but he instinctively reciprocated the gesture, deepening their gentle embrace ever so slightly.

The moment was over too soon for his liking. His heart was pounding and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears.

“There’s your kiss,” she whispered. Leliana rose and gave Erik a wry smile that took his breath away.

“Rest,” she commanded gently, “Your little escapade with Evelyn took quite a toll on you both, and I’d hate to see you suffer needlessly.” She left the tent, leaving behind a scent of candied roses and incense. Erik laid back down on the tent and stared at the canvas above him in absolute bewilderment.

How the _fuck_ was he going to rest after what she just did?

The answer was he would rest quite easily, as it turned out. He didn’t even remember passing back out, but he slept blissfully, his near-constant PTSD nightmares shockingly held at bay for once. It was morning when Erik woke again, and a meal of hot stew and a pitcher of water were resting on the crate Leliana had sat on the night before.

His last memory with the Spymaster came rushing back. She’d kissed him. Not a friendly peck on the cheek that had arisen from gratitude, but an actual, full-fledged kiss. Erik couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt something like that, and it made him realize how starved for affection and companionship he actually was.

 _I should probably do something about that,_ he thought. Of course, no ideas readily came to mind, so he let out a frustrated huff and grabbed the stew, eating it slowly and thinking about what came next.

The awkward song and Solas informing Evelyn of Skyhold’s existence should be the next thing he had to deal with… but he had no idea whether it had already happened. For all he knew, he’d been unconscious for days. It wasn’t necessarily something that he needed to be there for, though he supposed Solas could always choose to be a dick and not speak to Evelyn if he believed Erik already knew about Skyhold’s existence.

He decided that he should probably start getting movement in his legs, so he drew himself out of bed with a small groan and began looking for a shirt to cover his torso. Boots were another necessity, now that he came to think of it. He found both in a corner, clean and dry. After throwing them on, he grabbed his rifle and limped his way outside. The morning sunlight glared off the snow, stabbing his eyes for a brief moment before they adjusted. It was chilly, but not terribly cold, especially after the colossal shitshow that was his hike through the mountains.

As he wandered through the camp, several people shot him suspicious or outright hostile glances, and he drew himself slightly more upright in defense, making sure a round was chambered before letting the rifle fall back into his right hand. Dark hair and olive skin popped into the corner of his view, and he turned slightly to find Dorian approaching him.

“Our resident madman awakens,” he greeted jovially, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I survived a stampede of dragons,” Erik responded, “How long was I out?”

“Only a day and a half. I guess you woke briefly last night, according to the Nightingale.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Erik murmured in slight embarrassment. Dorian immediately picked up on it and gave a wry smile, his mustache curling.

“Oho! So something happened last night,” he laughed, “Do tell.”

“I’d rather pick your brain, to be honest,” Erik deflected, “About everything that’s happened.”

“Right. Well, you and Evelyn were gone for two days, almost three. To be honest, we believed you both to be dead. Your injuries were quite extensive, I believe. A cracked rib, minor frostbite, some internal bleeding, and something torn in your left knee. An old injury, according to the spirit healer, but she worked on it as best she could,” Dorian’s face twisted slightly in confusion, “There was also a length of metal in your left leg, though the spirit healer said it seemed to be a piece of you, rather than a foreign object.”

“Yeah, that’s supposed to be there,” Erik waved off dismissively, “How was Evelyn?”

“Not much better than yourself, to be honest. The mark on her hand was decidedly not happy, though Solas saw to that. She had a broken toe, the muscles in one of her shoulders were slightly torn, and she almost lost a finger to frostbite. She’s been awake for a few hours; she wandered around the camp for a bit like you’re doing now and went back to bed.”

Erik nodded and thought for a moment. It seemed like the argument between the Inquisition’s leadership hadn’t happened yet. Even still…

“Has anything happened since? Anything… odd?” he asked curiously.

“Other than you two seemingly coming back from the dead? No. Why? Are more absolute disasters headed our way?” Erik merely shrugged.

“Absolute disasters? Yes, but not in our immediate future. Surprise attacks from ancient Darkspawn Magisters that started the Blight? No.”

“So it’s true,” Dorian breathed, “I’d honestly hoped Evelyn had been wrong when she explained what you said Corypheus was. To know that my country was really the one that started the Blights is…”

“You didn’t start the Blights, Dorian,” Erik reassured, “Seven power-hungry men started it a thousand years ago.”

Dorian gave a slight smile. “Yes, that’s the same thing the Herald said,” he paused for a moment before continuing in a low voice, “You should know that after your little stunt, everyone here believes you two have truly been chosen by the maker. There were doubts before, but to survive that… It solidified everyone’s belief.”

“Everyone? Even yourself?”

“I don’t know if miracles are real, true. But that was a miracle if I’ve ever seen one. Even the Left and Right hands seem to be convinced of the two of you being sent by divine providence. That isn’t to say there isn’t anger.”

“Anger?”

“You knew we were to be attacked and said nothing,” the Tevene pointed out, “Now before you say anything, I understand why you did what you did. I’m no tactician, but I was fighting alongside you. There was no way to prepare for that, and running would have only made it worse. Cloistering everyone in the Chantry was the best decision you could have made. But the people don’t see that. They only know that you can see the future and didn’t do anything to prevent their misfortune.”

Erik sighed in exhaustion. It made sense, to be honest. They didn’t know that nothing was fixed, and that trying to make things better could potentially worsen things. It hurt slightly to know that the people he tried to protect the best way he knew how held mistrust for his deeds. But in the end, it didn’t matter. If they were alive, he was content.

“How many did we lose?” he asked.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I heard Cullen say something around two-hundred-and-fifty soldiers and twenty or thirty civilians. Not a huge number, to be truthful. The avalanches prevented our forces from losing many more of our forces, and your rather subtle suggestion of a Chantry service prevented most of the civilians from meeting their deaths, as well.”

Twenty or thirty, out of probably a thousand or so non-combatants. It was an astronomically small number for facing a force like the one they’d encountered. They may have lost Haven, but its people were safe, largely.

“I’ve taken enough of your time,” Dorian bid as he began to walk away, “Get some more rest. The faster you’ve recovered, the faster we can leave this frozen wasteland.” He moved away from Erik and deeper into the camp.

Erik let out another sigh of exhaustion and went to find Evelyn’s camp. After only a minute or so he found it. Right next to his, near the center of the camp. He probably should have looked there first, in retrospect. He knocked on the post and walked under the canvas.

His sister was sitting upright, drinking a small cup of tea as she spoke to Josephine and Cullen. The three of them all snapped their eyes toward him as he entered, and if he had any fucks to give, he would have felt shame for interrupting what looked like an important discussion.

Cullen gave a slight scowl as Erik’s eyes swept the room, and Josephine’s face held a slightly disappointed look. Evelyn, the only one in the tent whose opinion he actually cared about, looked beyond relieved.

“Thank the Maker, you’re awake,” she said, “I’d ask how you’re feeling, but we went through the exact same nightmare, and I, for one, still feel awful.”

“I’m in the same boat as you, Ev. I just wanted to get some blood flowing through my legs,” he agreed. He sat down at Evelyn’s side and ignored the way Cullen’s scowl deepened as he clasped Evelyn’s hand affectionately.

“Everyone’s furious with you, in case you weren’t aware,” she pointed out, shifting slightly to place her cup on a nearby crate.

“As we have every right to be,” Cullen growled from his left.

“What were you thinking, not telling us about the attack? We lost good people because we had no time to act,” Josephine snapped. Erik felt fury and stubbornness well up inside of him. How dare they? He saved Evelyn’s life. He saved nearly every non-combatant in Haven. His only mistake, in his mind, was forgetting to warn them of the dragon when they received word of the attack. He let go of Evelyn’s hand and turned on the Antivan and Fereldan.

“Let me make something perfectly _fucking_ clear for both of you,” he growled, “I did what I believed was necessary at the time. Stew in your anger all you want, but don’t you dare fault me for an inevitable dilemma. I have this knowledge, but I don’t want it. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have ever come to Thedas to begin with. I could have kept everything to myself and let everything work itself out on its own, but instead I chose to help you. Like I said when I first explained my foreknowledge, there are some things I won’t share until they’re about to happen. This was one of them.”

“But you could have at least warned us!” Cullen shouted, “You could have given us more than literally minutes of preparation. You could have done _something_ , and yet you decided to do nothing, instead. And now hundreds of people are dead because of it.”

“I know you’re dealing with a lot right now, Commander Rutherford, but did you open your eyes for a single _FUCKING_ second of that battle? Did you see the pikes and chokepoints? My doing, and Cole’s. The Chantry service that kept nearly every non-combatant safe when the dragon attacked? My idea. The potions and cloak that probably saved Evelyn’s life when we fell down that hole? My idea. I did as much as we could do.

“You’re a tactician. What could we have done? That force was over three times our size and backed by a corrupted high dragon! Did you think that putting everyone on a hundred percent security would have done good? It would have caused panic in Haven! Do you think we should have run? They would have probably chased after us. The only reason they didn’t was that Evelyn and I buried the fuckers with a mountain so deeply that they’re _still_ digging themselves out. Stew in your contempt all you want, but _don’t you ever_ accuse me of being idle.”

He took a deep breath and prepared to continue his tirade, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to find Evelyn smiling sadly at him, silently urging him to calm down. He wordlessly sat down by her side once more, their thighs lightly pressed to the other’s as they gave each other the comfort of family.

“If you have a problem with my decision, and you’ll have a problem with my withholding of information in the future, let me know now. I’ll just leave,” he murmured in a hollow voice.

“It may be ineluctable,” Josephine hummed grimly.

“That may be best,” Cullen shot at the exact same time. He felt Evelyn tense at his side and she looked at the two advisors.

“If Erik leaves, I leave too,” Evelyn said hotly, “I won’t lose the only family I have, regardless of whether he’s my brother by blood or not. Neither of you have any idea how much he’s done. He’s saved my life more times than I can count. He’s preserved my mental health at least twice. Never once has he been faced with a decision I’ve made that he didn’t respond to with support and reassurance. I wouldn’t be the woman I am now without his influence, and if you think you’re entitled to information that you wouldn’t have even known if Erik had never arrived here, then you aren’t people I want to associate myself with; the Inquisition will have to make do without either of us.”

“That won’t be necessary, Herald,” Josephine reassured, shooting Erik an unsure glance as she did so.

“I don’t believe you,” Evelyn said coldly, “Let’s go, Erik. Grab your belongings from Leliana. We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready.”

“Right behind you,” Erik nodded, keeping his face impassive. He knew exactly what Evelyn was doing. He suspected Josephine had an inkling as well, but he doubted Cullen did. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care if they were angry. He could work with angry; he refused to work with open hostility.

Evelyn rose from her cot and slid her boots on before wrapping a fur-lined cloak around her shoulders and finding a decent-sized rucksack. She grabbed her staff (which miraculously survived their fall) and walked to Erik's side. They began to leave the tent without another word.

“Herald, wait,” Josephine called. They continued walking.

“Ignore her,” she muttered at his side with a sinister grin, “Now I kind of want to see how far we can take this.” His own smile began to match hers, and they walked toward Leliana’s tent at the opposite side of the camp’s common area.

“Herald, Champion,” she greeted emotionlessly, “What can I do for you two?”

“Did you retrieve my bag before Haven fell?” Erik asked. She nodded and handed it to him, raising an eyebrow at them as she did so.

“Planning on going somewhere, Herald?” the Spymaster asked as she eyed the traveling cloak.

“It appears Erik’s service is no longer desired,” Evelyn explained, “Which means that mine will no longer be provided, either. Good day, Sister Leliana.” Erik gave Leliana a nod as they turned to leave.

“Absolutely not. We did not agree that Erik needed to leave,” Leliana said in a steely tone, “We need both of you. Allow me a word with the rest of the leaders for a moment.” The Orlesian stormed off to find the other advisors, and Erik and Evelyn sat down in the Spymaster’s tent to wait.

Two minutes later he heard shouting. Four distinct voices, in fact. They carried across the camp, turning dozens of heads. A thought suddenly crept into Erik’s mind, and a realization crashed into him like the mountain had.

“Oh, god fucking dammit,” he sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

“What?” Evelyn asked.

“They were supposed to have an argument. I think it was supposed to be tonight,” Erik explained, “I think we may have just started it.” He watched as Evelyn looked across the camp in curiosity, then in frustration.

“Andraste’s fucking tits,” she growled, “I don’t have the energy for this shit. I’m going back to bed.” She rose and began to limp in the direction of her tent.

“Right behind you,” he responded, following her on sore legs.

* * *

The next time Evelyn woke she was in her tent, and she heard violent arguing. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Erik and Mother Giselle sat next to her. Erik gave her a tight smile and shifted slightly toward her, brotherly affection clearly showing through his strain. Evelyn returned the gesture and listened to the voices outside the tent.

"What would you have me tell them? This isn't what we asked them to do,” Cullen shouted.

"We cannot simply ignore this. We must find a way,” Cassandra snapped back.

"And who put you in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing,” the Fereldan rebutted.

"Please, we must use reason. Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we're hobbled," Josephine pleaded.

"That can't come from nowhere.”

“She didn’t say it could!” Leliana screamed.

"Enough! This is getting us nowhere,” Cassandra roared.

Evelyn slowly sat up, trying to stop the Inquisition’s leadership from collapsing into infighting.

Mother Giselle put a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing her back down.

"Shh. You need rest."

Evelyn sighed. "This started earlier. They’ve been at it for hours."

"They have that luxury, thanks to you," Giselle said softly as Erik handed her a waterskin. She slowly sat up and took it.

"Thanks to the efforts of yourself and the Champion, the enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as this Elder One."

“Corypheus. His name is Corypheus,” she muttered, taking a long drink before speaking again, "Do we know where Corypheus and his forces are?”

Giselle shook her head. "We are not sure where _we_ are. Which may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him," Giselle sighed, "That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us."

“If they’re trying to figure out what to do next, we need to be out there,” she drank the last of the waterskin and slowly stood.

"Another heated voice won't help,” Giselle pointed out, “Even yours. Perhaps _especially_ yours and your brother’s. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defenders stand… and fall. And now, we have seen them return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What 'we' have been called to endure? What 'we', perhaps, must come to believe?"

"We escaped the avalanche," Erik offered as he gave Evelyn’s hand a slight squeeze, "Barely. But we didn't die."

"Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or, perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works in both the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?"

Evelyn sighed. “I’m not even sure what _I_ believe.” She stood and walked out of the tent staring at the camp. It was a sore sight. Every one of the advisors looked dejected and defeated, and no one else in the Inquisition looked any better, either.

“Get ready for singing,” Erik whispered as he walked past. It was the most bizarre thing she’d probably ever heard him say. Singing? What in the Maker’s name was he talking about? What would singing possibly accomplish?

Naturally, Mother Giselle started singing.

“Shadows fall and hope has fled; Steel your heart, the dawn will come." Mother Giselle approached her, and Evelyn was briefly convinced she had hit her head much harder than she’d initially thought. Her voice carried in the quiet moonlight.

"The night is long, and the path is dark; Look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come."

Leliana glanced at the Mother, then joined in with an angelic voice, high and harmonious.

“The shepherd's lost, and his home is far; Keep to the stars, the dawn will come."

The two continued to sing, others joining them. Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine, even Fiona and Varric and Blackwall.

“The night is long, and the path is dark; Look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come."

They all started to approach her, singing. Every one of the Haven survivors. Some were even kneeling. Evelyn began to squirm in her own skin.

"Bare your blade and raise it high; Stand your ground. The dawn will come.”

She looked around, utterly confused. Had she been fed bad food? Was this a fever dream? Were they still in that blizzard, the past day’s memories simply the last throes of a dying and delirious mind?

“The night is long, and the path is dark; Look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come."

They all looked at her with hope and reverence in their eyes. Alistair’s words to her came back, then.

 _It doesn’t matter what you want. When they decide the time is right, they’ll drag you kicking and screaming to the position_.

She looked around and saw Erik smiling at her from his tent, and she found herself unconsciously raising herself up to her full height.

“Faith is made stronger by facing doubt, Herald. Untested, it is nothing,” Giselle said quietly. She returned to her tent, and one by one the survivors dispersed.

Solas approached. “A word?” She followed, and they walked some distance away to a veilfire lamp he had set up.

"A wise woman. Worth heeding. Her kind understands the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it,” he looked her in the eye, "The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you? It is elven. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived… nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin."

Evelyn returned the man’s gaze intently. “Tell me about the orb.”

"They were foci, used to channel ancient magicks. I have seen such things in the Fade, old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire's magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it."

“Everything’s a mess right now,” she concurred, “I can see how elves might be an easy target.”

"History would agree. But there are steps we can take to prevent such a distraction. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you," he pointed to the mountains, "Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build. Grow."

It took less than thirty seconds for her to convince absolutely everyone to follow. She merely mentioned scouting north and some form of shelter somewhere in that direction, and they all agreed to follow without a second thought. She and Erik led the caravan from the front, bounding over hills and scaling cliffs if they had to. But they were following an old trail, Erik pointed out by the second day. Once that piece of information clicked, leading the group north became far easier.

After four days and four nights, she saw it, at dawn. A massive, nigh-impenetrable fortress built on the top of a peak surrounded by even larger heights. It was clearly abandoned, but still largely intact. A long stone bridge connected the castle to a watchtower, and a path spiraled down to the valley below, meeting an almost completely frozen river. What looked like the ruins of a large town—almost a city—stood at the base of the mountain the castle stood upon, half-buried in snow.

“Holy fucking shit,” Erik laughed, his voice full of pure joy, “Look at it! It’s _massive_.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and she was jolted out of her awe and found herself grinning from ear to ear.

Solas came to stand by their side, drawing himself up in pride as he wistfully gazed at the structure in the distance.

“Skyhold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this went up faster than I expected. They quarantined us before we deploy and they gave us free wifi, so I'll have a few more days before I'm running around in the desert for months. If I don't update for more than four to six weeks, chances are I'm probably dead, just so y'all aren't just waiting. Even if it's an update that simply acknowledges my continued existence, I'll try to post at least once a month.
> 
> Chapter is named for The Script for My Requiem by Blind Guardian - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVYyCoeglPw
> 
> Erik hums the chorus of Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd when he wakes up - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-xTttimcNk
> 
> Also don't know how I did with that first scene. If it sucks, the roast of Angus_McFife_XIII is open for you.


	20. Hallowed Be Thy Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik speaks with Leliana. Evelyn learns some things about her brother and gets a new title.  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look we're closing in on 100k words and 1000 hits. Nifty.
> 
> Blah blah blah, Bioware and EA own Dragon Age, blah blah blah

Erik had to be honest, Skyhold was impressive. It was way bigger than what had been depicted for him. At least three times as big, in fact. Both the upper and lower courtyards were sprawling and dotted with nearly a dozen more buildings than he’d remembered. The stables were large enough to hold twenty or thirty horses, and the other buildings were quickly assigned different purposes. He took Adaar’s company and cleared the keep itself to ensure nothing unsavory had moved in since Solas had moved out. He still had to re-zero his optic, but he didn’t use it in CQB anyways. It was a long, slow process due to the sheer size of the keep.

Everything that had been depicted was about the same size, save for the rotunda, which held six floors instead of three and was about twice as wide diameter-wise than the area. Most of the extra floors seemed to be extra space for the library, though one appeared to be a public study of sorts. The extra rooms were slightly disorienting for him; while the rooms he remembered were the same sizes, there were plenty of extra areas that threw his sense of direction off within the keep. The Inquisitor’s tower was another interesting revelation: there were twelve extra rooms beneath the top floor that he knew would probably become Evelyn’s. The stairwells themselves were rotting where they were wood and crumbling where they were stone, and Erik made a note to inform the leadership of the instability in the tower. The only two places that didn’t seem to be in some form of disrepair were the undercroft, where a full forge was already waiting, and the washrooms, where Erik nearly cried when he discovered Skyhold had semi-modern plumbing. They followed the pipes down and out into a small stream that led parallel to the river next to the city below the keep. Erik made another mental note of it, but as long as they weren’t shitting in their own water supply and getting messages informing them “you have died of dysentery”, he didn’t really care.

All in all, as much as he wanted to deny it, the fortress was a spilled bucket of fuck up close. Vines covered the outside walls, and rotten wood littered the interior. But apart from a crumbling wall on the southeastern side, the structure was largely intact; the damage was mostly cosmetic. There were even a few areas that could easily become quarries in the mountains surrounding Skyhold, making their mountain of work that much easier. They were lucky enough to have masons and carpenters with them, and they estimated three weeks for most of the damage to be repaired. The throne room, ambassador’s office, rookery and library, stables, kitchens, and the future Herald’s Rest were largely intact, and simply needed to be cleaned out and furnished. The guest rooms in the keep, Inquisitor’s tower, the dungeons, and the quartermaster’s office were noted for repairs, and Erik eventually wandered into Evelyn in the lower courtyard, who was speaking to a runner near Cullen’s temporary command table. He shifted to her side and watched as the Inquisition spent no time jumping into work.

“Cullen sent the mages and a few companies to clear out the abandoned town in the valley,” she informed him, “It’s mostly buried in snow, as you saw when we passed through, but it’s stone. It should still mostly be intact.”

“Do we have an estimate on how big it is?” Erik asked.

She shrugged. “Even if every single person moved out of the castle and into the city, we wouldn’t even fill a sixth of the city. Josephine estimated it could house around twenty thousand.”

“That’s twice the size of Denerim,” Erik pointed out. Even if it was small by his terms, a city twice the size of a major power’s capital would make some waves if it ever grew to its full capacity.

And it would, Erik was certain. Judging by the size and reach of the Inquisition by the end of Corypheus’s reign of terror, the city below would quickly reach its capacity of twenty thousand. With the army – which he had no doubt would be garrisoned in the city – the families, and any tradesmen and refugees that pledged itself to the Inquisition, Evelyn would probably be running something akin to a duchy while rivaling the political and military power of the Archon of Tevinter or Empress of Orlais. No wonder the Inquisition had such a hard time in _Trespasser_. No major powers would like that, even if they just decided to kick back in the mountains.

“Are we on the Orlesian or Fereldan side of the Frostbacks?” Erik asked as a thought came to his mind.

Evelyn’s small, straight nose scrunched in thought. “The Fereldan side, I believe. Why?”

“We should contact King Alistair and see if he can cede these lands to us,” Erik suggested. He would be damned if he would just sit back and watch when the vultures eventually decided to picked away at the only stability he had in this world.

“Good idea,” she agreed, “We should talk to Josephine about that. Maybe Leliana, too; isn’t she a friend of the king?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Erik offered, “As you said, Leliana’s a friend of Alistair’s, and I need to speak to both her and Josephine, anyway.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. “Josephine I understand, what with your last discussion. But Leliana? What do you need to speak with her about?”

Erik shifted slightly in place as he felt his face heat up. He glanced around for a moment to ensure no one was eavesdropping, then leaned in toward her ear.

“She kissed me.” His sister’s eyes were wide with absolute shock as he drew himself back up, her mouth agape slightly.

“She did _what_?”

“After I woke up the first time, the night before I chewed Cullen and Josephine out,” he confirmed, “Though it may have been just to mess with me.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked with indignation. Erik sighed.

“I was joking that a kiss after I woke up would be nice. Right before she left, she planted one,” he explained.

Evelyn barked a laugh and rolled her eyes, drawing the attention of several passersby. She looked at him with a wry grin.

“Erik, that woman does everything for a reason,” she declared, “If she kissed you, she’s either doing it with an ulterior motive or she’s genuinely interested in you. And judging from the way she looked at you right before we went out to drop that avalanche, I’m inclined to believe the latter.”

Erik thought for a moment. Evelyn may have a point. He recalled a previous conversation with the Spymaster, as well. _Not while the Breach is open,_ Leliana had said. Of course, she’d also said to wait before things calmed down to try anything, but securing themselves in Skyhold was about as calm as they were going to get for at least another year. And besides, they were both adults. He could talk to her openly about it. At least, he hoped he could.

“Look, I imagine this is eating at you,” she said with a sigh, “It would for me, too, if a certain… individual did the same to me.” Her eyes darted toward where Cullen was hunched over a stack of papers, and Erik felt a smile involuntarily grow across his face.

“But you need to work it out. Leliana’s a big girl. She knows what she meant when she did that.”

He nodded in agreement. She was right. He had to swallow his boyish nervousness and just talk to the woman. And hope he didn’t get shanked for it.

“You’re right. I’ll go find her in a bit.”

Evelyn smiled warmly. “Good. You’ve lost a lot more than anyone else here has. It’d be good for you to start building a new life, especially if you’re certain you aren’t going anywhere.”

And so that was how he found himself wandering Skyhold looking for a flash of red hair or nervous glances in any specific direction. He’d followed two said glances, only to find that they’d been aimed at Bull and Fiona. The Ben-Hassrath merely laughed when Erik asked if he knew where Leliana was, the Qunari’s social intelligence allowing him to immediately deduce why he was looking for the Orlesian. The latter went much better. Fiona informed him that the last she’d seen Leliana was when she went down to the dungeons to ensure that Alexius was secured properly. He thanked the former Grand Enchanter and strode down the dank stairwell, every flight bringing more butterflies into his stomach until he was convinced they were going to spill out of him and migrate somewhere warmer.

“There is nothing else you know?” he heard Leliana’s lilted voice echo toward him.

“No. Are you done pouring salt in my wounds, Nightingale?” Alexius’s voice rifled back. There was no response, and he saw the Bard’s silhouette striding his direction in the torchlight.

“Champion. What can I do for you?” Leliana greeted him when she saw him at the base of the stairs.

“You can call me Erik, you know,” he offered, “That title feels so impersonal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she paused for a moment, “Is there something you needed?”

He swallowed thickly, anxiety attempting to overwhelm him. “We need to talk.”

“Are we not?” she asked in a joking tone.

“Privately.” Leliana raised an eyebrow but said nothing, gesturing for him to lead the way.

He led her to an as-of-yet unmanned guard tower overlooking the city below. The mages were moving quickly in the valley; over half of the snowdrifts had been cleared and the buried buildings were beginning to show themselves.

“Is it what was described to you?” Leliana asked. Erik thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“It’s bigger than I remember, but it’s pretty much the same, yeah,” he explained, “I have to admit, though, actually being here and seeing this place is kind of surreal.”

“I can imagine. But I doubt you wished to speak to me about our work in repairing this place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shook his head. This was it. Now or never. Erik took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, noting absentmindedly that it had grown significantly during his time in this world. He turned toward the beautiful Orlesian and looked her in the eye.

“Why did you kiss me when I woke up? Was it because of my poor excuse for flirting?” Leliana searched his face for a moment, her face impassive. Then she reddened slightly, the involuntary action shooting Erik’s heart into his throat.

“Should there be any other reason aside from wanting to?” she finally asked after a moment.

He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he just stood there dumbly. She had wanted to? What?

He shook himself out of his stupor. “Right.”

“Look, I know you said back in Haven that nothing could happen while the Breach was still open, and that we should wait until things had calmed down to try anything,” he began, “But this is as calm as things are going to get for a while. We aren’t ever going to be attacked here. No one’s stupid enough to try it. I know you still have your work, and I still have mine, but I’m going to be honest, I like you. A lot. I have no idea how dating or courtship or whatever you call it here works, but I want to try it. And I couldn’t just sit on this anymore and wonder if you felt the same way.”

She gazed at him with slightly glassy eyes, and he stopped his babbling and took a deep breath. Time to take a leap of faith, he supposed…

“If it’s alright with you, I’d really like to take you out on a date.”

“A date?” she asked in a clearly confused tone. Erik had to bite back a laugh. Of course. Different worlds, different customs and terms. He’d have to break it down.

“You know, go somewhere,” he explained, “Grab some food or something to drink, anything we want, really. Just spend some time together, see if we can’t make something work.”

Leliana’s eyes lit up momentarily and a smile slid across her rosy lips. Erik fought the urge to throw himself over the battlements in embarrassment and apprehension.

“Are you trying to properly court me, _Champion_?” she asked with a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Yeah. If that’s what you want to call it, I guess I am,” Erik said, somehow managing not to stutter. Her smile grew even further, and the slightly rosy tint that had crept into her cheeks spread further through her face.

“I think I’d like that. Very much, in fact.”

It was all he could do to not melt into a puddle on the stone beneath him. _Thank fucking god_ , he thought.

“Good. I, uh… that’s good,” he fumbled in relief, “When do you want to… you know, spend some time together?”

She thought for a moment, drumming her thin, gloved fingers on the ramparts. “It will have to wait for a few weeks, obviously. We need to make the castle and the city livable, first. But as soon as we can after that, we should go on this ‘date’ of yours.”

“Sounds good,” he smiled. He had no idea what to do with his hands. Should he hug her? Just walk away? He decided to stand there like an awkward twelve-year-old.

“Good. I have duties to attend to, but,” she paused, then stood on her toes and planted her lips on his briefly. Erik’s eyes flew open in shock; he did not expect another kiss. Leliana gave him a playful smile and turned toward the nearby staircase.

“Until later,” she said as she walked away, hips swaying slightly. Erik leaned against the ramparts, still completely stunned as he thought about what the hell he just got himself into.

He had a date with Leliana. Arguably the most dangerous person in the Inquisition, and he was going to take her out on a date. What the hell had his life become?

Erik shook the thoughts from his mind and wandered back into the upper courtyard, only to find Cassandra, a blatantly shocked look on her face as her eyes darted between Leliana’s retreating figure and Erik’s approaching one.

“Did Sister Leliana just–”

“Not a word, Cass.”

Three weeks passed quickly. They had furniture delivered to from Orlais and Antiva. Leliana sent ravens out to every connection she had, and craftsmen and nobles came from every corner of Thedas to visit. At the foot of the mountain housing Skyhold proper, the city began to take shape housing thousands of new residents. The military losses they’d taken at Haven were quickly recouped, then doubled, then tripled on top of that. The keep was largely repaired, the vast majority of broken and damaged infrastructure repaired or replaced entirely. Twenty-seven days after they’d arrived at Skyhold he passed by Leliana in the main, who beckoned him toward a door on the left side of the room. He followed her and quickly realized that she was leading him toward what would become the War Room. The wall leading into the room was still damaged, irking Erik ever so slightly as they entered the sprawling chamber. He was met by Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine, all sitting around a heavy oak table engraved with a map of Thedas. Three pairs of eyes moved toward them as they entered.

“You found him. Good,” Cassandra spoke to Leliana as she took a seat at the table while Erik opted to lean against it next to the Spymaster.

“We require your knowledge once again,” Leliana explained. Erik raised an eyebrow and looked around the room. If they needed to know something he knew, why wasn’t Evelyn here?

“How do we know that he will share? He didn’t divulge anything about the attack at Haven,” Cullen almost growled. Erik decided it was time to leave and drew himself up from where he leaned on the oak until Leliana stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest.

“Stay, please,” she muttered. It wasn’t a demand, but a request. The offworlder sighed and took his place next to the Orlesian woman once again.

“I swear, if any of you question my motives one more time, I’ll just leave the Inquisition entirely,” Erik decided, “We already went over this once in the mountains. I’m not going over it again.”

“I have spoken to both Leliana and The Iron Bull extensively,” Cassandra defended, “Erik had every reason to withhold his knowledge of Haven’s fall, both tactically and logically. There was no way to keep what happened from coming to pass.”

Cullen seemed slightly placated and relaxed slightly, though Josephine’s eyes darted toward him apprehensively.

“Do we have a problem, Ambassador?” Erik asked.

“There were several nobles in Haven when the Elder One attacked,” she said, “I have tried to placate them, but word of your foreknowledge has spread. Some are calling for your head.”

“Molon Labe.”

The Antivan blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“They want my head so bad? Come and take it,” Erik snapped, “I’ve dealt with way worse than a few pampered blue bloods.” Josephine seemed appalled by his statement but did not debate him.

“Those calling for your execution are not why we brought you here,” Leliana sighed, “I’ve already begun spreading rumors about your reasons. The malcontent will dissipate in less than a week.”

“Why did you call me here?”

“We need to choose our Inquisitor,” the Right Hand explained, “It is between yourself and the Herald. We wanted your opinion”

Erik shuffled in place slightly and accidentally bumped Leliana’s shoulder. They were considering him as Inquisitor? Why?

“No. Absolutely not. I won’t do it.”

“May we ask for your reasoning?” Josephine pressed.

“First of all, I have no background here. I have no ties outside the Inquisition, familial or otherwise. Secondly, as I just learned, there are people here that want me dead. Having a leader that controversial within the organization they’re supposed to lead is not a good thing. Thirdly, Evelyn is absolutely the one who has to do it.”

“Why does the Herald have to be the one crowned Inquisitor?” Cullen asked with skepticism.

“She’s already been doing it in everything but title. She’s largely been calling the shots since day one. She has ties here, and the people love her more than they love me. I’ve heard what people think of me; regardless of whether or not the people think I’ve been chosen by the Maker or Andraste, the majority are scared of me. They think I’m ruthless, cold, and calculating. They know I was essentially a spy and a soldier in my old life, and while a soldier wouldn’t be a problem, a spy would be. In this case, it isn’t better to be feared than loved.”

“Appointing the Herald as Inquisitor would bring its own problems,” Josephine noted, “She is a mage, for one, and there is still a general fear of mages in our ranks.”

“Which will slowly dissipate as they prove themselves trustworthy allies,” Leliana argued, “I agree with Erik. The Herald is the better choice.”

“There’s one other thing that makes her the only choice,” Erik concluded, “Corypheus considers her his rival. I’m just a nuisance to him. And the more word of Haven spreads, the more people will know that.”

Cassandra nodded. “I believe it’s decided, then.” The other three nodded their assent, and Erik breathed a silent sigh of relief. Being the Inquisitor was on top of his list of “shit I never want to do in my life”. He could do diplomacy, but he hated it. He was just fine shooting people in the face, thank you very much.

“The naming will be tomorrow. I’ll ensure everyone knows,” Josephine stated.

“How are we going to keep it from the Herald?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing slightly in thought.

“You two could stop beating around the bush and admit you’re attracted to each other,” Erik suggested. Josephine brought a hand to her mouth in shock while Cassandra’s jaw dropped open and Leliana suppressed a laugh at Erik’s side. Cullen, for one, hid his embarrassment rather well, only turning slightly less red than a tomato. He leveled a scathing gaze at the offworlder, and Erik rolled his eyes.

“Or I could just get her shitfaced, instead,” he laughed.

“Please don’t overdo it, Erik. We need her to be able to walk in the morning,” Leliana teased slightly. The lightness in her voice raised more than a few eyebrows in the War Room, and Erik drew himself up and made his way for the door.

“She’s a mage. She’ll just magic the hangover away. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get drunk with my sister.”

* * *

Evelyn found herself in the yet-to-be-named tavern with Erik, despite her better judgment. It amused her slightly that the first building to be completely refurbished was the one spot in the castle where alcohol was served nonstop, but she supposed it made sense; people needed to unwind after work. Evelyn was four glasses of wine in and felt slightly tipsy, but Erik had pulled out all stops. He didn’t even try to mask his tolerance and was drinking straight from a heavy bottle of whiskey with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

“I have to say, I’m surprised we got this place up and running as fast as we did,” Erik commented.

“Oh? Why’s that?” she asked as she threw her feet onto the empty chair next to her.

“This place was a shitshow when we got here, Ev. The city below was buried, and we couldn’t even get into that tower with the huge bedroom up top.”

She had to admit, he was right. The castle, while structurally sound, wasn’t exactly what she would have called livable when they arrived. But thousands more had pledged their support for the Inquisition, and apart from a few glaring shortcomings, it was almost completely repaired. The city in the valley below – which they’d named New Haven – had taken form rather quickly, as well, and was now almost a pilgrimage site in and of itself. Rudimentary roads into Ferelden had been established as soon as their expeditionary forces had cleared the planned routes for travel, and now the city boasted a population of nearly four thousand, larger than any settlement in Ferelden but Gwaren, Highever, and Denerim.

She thought back to the tower Erik had mentioned, and the huge bedchambers it held at its zenith.

“Who do you think they’re going to house in that chamber in the tower you mentioned?” she asked, trying to mask her query with innocence. Erik merely shrugged.

“It’ll go to the Inquisitor,” he blithely said, taking another pull from his whiskey bottle.

“And who will that be?” she pressed. Erik put the bottle down and gave her a sly smile. So he _did_ know.

“Now, now, Evie. I can’t tell you that. It’d ruin the surprise.”

She grunted in frustration and quickly downed another glass of wine before refilling it just as fast. She prayed to the Maker it wasn’t her. What she was already doing for the Inquisition was already enough. Being its official leader on top of that? No, thank you.

“I’m more interested in discussing your love life,” Erik jabbed, “Or, rather, your lack thereof.”

She crossed her arms indignantly. “Oh? And I suppose you’ve worked up the courage to speak with Leliana, then?” Her brother shrugged.

“I did, actually. Talked to her a few weeks ago. When we get fully settled in, she and I have a date.”

“A date?” she grinned, “Is that what your world calls courting?”

“No, _dating_ is what we call courting. A date is just one piece of that.” Evelyn blinked in confusion. Without knowing anything else, she imagined a ‘date’ would likely involve a couple spending time together, but she had no idea.

“Anyways, back to you,” he redirected, “I bit the bullet and talked to our beautiful Spymaster, so it’s only fair that you swallow your fear and talk to our dashing Commander.”

She let out an embarrassed sigh and downed her entire glass yet again before she worked out what she was going to say to deflect Erik’s insistence.

“There’s nothing to talk to him about,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on. We’ve had this discussion before. He looks at you like you’re the last woman in the world, and you get antsy whenever he’s brought up. And before you say anything, I know it’s not because he was a Templar.”

“But that’s just the problem,” she spat, “He was a _Templar_. I have no idea what he did to other mages like me. I don’t even know if he’s being truthful about his opinion of mages in general.”

Erik rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Evelyn, he’s being honest. And believe me when I say that I understand your apprehension. I would in the same boat. But the Circles have been gone for almost two years. Cullen left the Templars long before that. You’re in no danger from him.”

Evelyn bit her lip, her stomach flipping over herself and her mind full of anxiety. She knew he was right, in the end, but even so…

Her brother let out a tired sigh. “I’m not going to push you, but answer me honestly: are you attracted to him?” She knew her answer right away yet had to wait several moments before answering.

“Yes.” Who wouldn’t be? Cullen was arguably the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Not to mention his shy demeanor made him even more adorable –

She stopped that thought before it could go any further. But it was immediately brought back with Erik’s next query.

“Do you enjoy being around him?” She felt herself flush slightly as she nodded in assent. Her brother spread his arms, the amber liquid in his bottle reminding her of Cullen’s eyes.

“Then what do you have to lose? Swallow your fear and talk to the man. See if it goes anywhere,” he suggested, “At worst, he shoots you down and I break his pretty nose.”

“And at best?” she asked apprehensively. Erik took another deep pull from his bottle.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, his words slurred slightly. Perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through her system, blurring her thoughts slightly, but she nodded anyways.

“At best, you’ll get married, and you’ll be happy.”

She felt her heart spring up into her throat. She could potentially be _married_ to Cullen? As in, he would be her husband? The idea was more than surprising to her. Marriage was the furthest thing from her mind ever since she’d joined the Circle. To know it was a distinct possibility in the future was shocking, to say the least.

“That’s all I want for you, Ev,” he said with melancholy in his voice, “I just want to see you happy. This war is going to take a lot from you. Life in general will; I learned that the hard way. Grab on to any joy that floats your way and hold onto it with everything you have. Let it grow, and it’ll be harder for life to take much more.”

She was silent for several minutes as she mulled over what her brother told her. It was poignant, to be sure, but something about it…

“What about you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” he returned with an inquisitive expression.

“Are you happy?” His eyes fell to the wood grain on the table, filling with an emotion she couldn’t place. When they finally met hers again, she saw what it was. _Sorrow_.

“I don’t think I’ve been truly happy in years, Ev. There’s a reason I can drink this much.” He tilted the base of the bottle to the ceiling and downed the last third of the bottle in seconds, as if to prove a point.

Evelyn awoke in her temporary room with a splitting headache the next day, as if Corypheus himself was digging his clawed nails into her forehead. She quickly downed the pitcher of water next to her bed and concentrated on the simple restoration spell she used as a hangover cure. The headache was gone instantly, though her stomach was still slightly upset. She eyed a plate of slightly warm food next to the pitcher and downed it faster than she thought she would, then sat back down on her bed in thought.

Erik wasn’t happy. It was strange, to be honest. Despite his occasional outbursts of anger and his almost hyper-aggression in combat, he had always struck her as a jovial man. To know he was hiding something akin to mental anguish was a revelation she didn’t expect to make about her surrogate sibling.

She decided to speak with him about it, throwing her clothes on and leaving the room to find him. She found the halls of the keep empty. Odd. It was late morning, by her estimate; the halls should be bustling with servants and workers. She continued to wander the castle aimlessly, finding only more empty rooms. Wondering where in the world everyone went, she found herself in the kitchens, which were also deserted, though she smelled something baking slowly in the ovens. Opening the door that led to the back of the lower courtyard, she noticed Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine and Cullen whispering in a circle. Then they all looked at her, and she felt utterly confused. The four dispersed, leaving only Cassandra, who beckoned to her. She glanced around at the bustling newcomers surrounding them, the first crowds of people Evelyn had seen all morning.

"They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage," Cassandra began as they began to walk side by side, "If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated. But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you."

“The Anchor,” she said dryly, looking at the magical scar that glowed lazily in her left palm.

The Right Hand shook her head. "Perhaps he came after you for more reasons than you've considered. Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven,” she led Evelyn to the long staircase that led to the throne room. Then she noted where the crowds of people were headed. Nearly everyone gathered beneath the landing between the two flights of stairs. More were lined along the battlements, and some were even on the roof of watchtowers and buildings.

"You are that creature's rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us,” she explained as they climbed to the landing. “The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has _already_ been leading it," Erik and Leliana stood side by side on the landing, an opulent longsword lying in her brother’s outstretched hands, a golden serpentine dragon curled across the hilt. Evelyn looked out at the courtyard, at the Haven survivors and those who had arrived. Cullen and Josephine stood at the front of the crowd, smiling.

I finally realized what was happening, and she felt absolute dread pooling in her stomach.

Cassandra looked her in the eye. "You."

_It doesn’t matter what you want._

She looked at Leliana, the Spymaster’s hands clasped before her and her head bowed in respect. She looked at the longsword once more, then up at Erik’s towering form. Her brother had a warm, loving smile on his face, his eyes passive.

She laughed, panic rising into her throat as her eyes darted around the courtyard. “You can’t be serious. Me? A Mage? Not Erik?”

“I am,” Cassandra confirmed solemnly, “We five agreed unanimously. You are the one to lead us. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide."

Evelyn swallowed thickly, slowly reaching out and grabbing the ceremonial sword by the hilt, gazing at it. It was lighter than she expected, and she saw her reflection in the polished steel blade; she barely recognized the woman that gazed back at her. She mulled it over for a long moment.

“This is bigger than any of us. The Inquisition was brought into this world to serve one purpose: bring order to the chaos. I don’t know if I’m worthy of it, but I’ll do my best to ensure we stay true to that oath.”

Cassandra nodded. "Wherever you lead us," Cassandra turned to the crowd and raised her voice, "Have our people been told?"

"They have," Josephine declared, "And soon the world."

“Commander, will they follow?”

Cullen turned to the crowd. "Inquisition. Will you follow?" The crowd roared appraisal.

"Will you fight?" Another cheer.

"Will we triumph?" They shouted once more, fists in the air. Cullen drew his sword.

"Your leader. Your Herald,” he pointed the sword towards her in salute, the reverence his eyes causing her breath to catch momentarily, "Your Inquisitor."

Evelyn had no idea what to do, so rather than stand awkwardly she raised her blade in response, trying her best not to pass out from shock.

The five of them - Cassandra had opted to train in the courtyard - opened the doors to the empty throne room. "So this is where it begins," Cullen said in awe.

“It began in the courtyard," Leliana said softly, "This is where we turn that promise into action."

"But what do we do? We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark."

“He told me enough,” Evelyn decided, “Corypheus is Tevinter for ‘Conductor’, according to Dorian. There’s a place where that name appears in the Chant of Light.”

“He’s one of the seven Tevinter Magisters that entered the Golden City?” Leliana said breathlessly.

She nodded. “He almost confirmed as much personally. Except he said it wasn’t golden when they arrived. He said it was already blackened.”

“No, that’s impossible,” Josephine shook her head, “The Chant teaches that the Magisters blackened the City with their sin.”

“The Chant is wrong about a lot of things,” Erik stated, “This is one of them.”

“What do you know, Champion?” Cullen pressed. Evelyn looked at her brother in apprehension, a mask of determination falling over his face.

“Corypheus is – or was – the High Priest of Dumat at the height of the Tevinter Imperium,” he began as Evelyn’s hand gripped the hilt of her new sword slightly tighter, “He, along with his six cohorts, breached the Veil in the largest blood magic ritual in recorded history. They entered the Golden City, being promised divine power in return. They found eldritch horror instead. The city was already black, and they came back with the Blight. You all know the rest.”

“I assume this is the first of your ‘world-shaking’ revelations you will reveal to us?” Leliana asked. Erik nodded in response.

“Is the Maker a lie, then?” the Left Hand asked with slight fear in her voice. Evelyn’s heart dropped into her stomach. She knew the Orlesian was devoutly Andrastian. Whatever her brother’s response was about to be, it could potentially crush her.

“I never said that,” Erik defended as Evelyn released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, “I said the Black City isn’t the seat of the Maker; that doesn’t mean the whole thing is a lie. History is written by the victor, religion included. Seeing as I was brought to this world through unknown means, I have more reason to believe in an omnipotent being than any of you.”

“Still, this is a dangerous revelation,” Josephine noted, “Regardless of its veracity, it is blasphemy. Saying such things in public would be a social death sentence.”

“Which is why we’re not saying anything about this,” Evelyn spoke up, making her first command as Inquisitor, “This will stay between the five of us unless an event requires us to divulge the truth of the Black City. Do I make myself clear?” The four others in the room nodded their agreement, and she relaxed slightly. They took a moment to let the information pass into memory, and then Leliana spoke again.

"In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated," she said, more a statement than a question.

“At a peace talk held at the Winter Palace,” Evelyn confirmed. Erik nodded in agreement.

“That’s what I know, as well. We need to be there.”

"Imagine the chaos her death would cause. With his army..." Josephine shuddered.

"An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so your misadventure in Redcliffe tells us," Cullen added.

"Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god."

Leliana shook her head and gazed at the tiles. "I'd feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with." Erik held back a laugh as the large double doors creaked slightly. She tilted her head in confusion. What was so funny?

"I know someone who can help with that," Varric’s raspy voice spoke as he entered the hall and strode towards their group, "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend. She crossed paths with Corypheus before and may know more about what he's doing. She can help."

Everything clicked into place. Evelyn smiled, thinking she knew exactly who the dwarven troublemaker was talking about. “I’m always looking for new friends. Introduce me?”

Varric fidgeted. "Parading her around might cause a fuss. It's better for you to meet privately. On the battlements, in a few weeks. Trust me. It's complicated." He turned and left.

"Well, then, we stand ready to move on both of these concerns," Josephine nodded.

“On your order, Inquisitor,” Cullen said.

“Please don’t call me that,” Evelyn sighed, “One title was bad enough. I don’t want to lose who I am even more.”

He let an evil smile slither across his face. “Of course, _Inquisitor_.” She let out a grunt of disgust that would have made Cassandra proud.

“I know one thing,” Leliana laughed, “If Varric is bringing who I think he is, Cassandra is going to _kill_ him."

They all exchanged awkward glances, and Josephine and Cullen left. Leliana turned to leave, too, but Evelyn grabbed her shoulder.

“I’d like to speak with you if you have the time.”

The Spymaster forced a smile. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

“Not you too,” she groaned. Her smile became genuine.

“What do you wish to speak about, Evelyn?”

“Do you think it’s an actual Archdemon?”

She shook her head. “I truthfully don’t know.”

“What would that mean?”

“It would mean the beginning of another Blight,” she paled significantly.

“It’s not an Archdemon,” Erik spoke up, alerting the two women to his continued presence. Evelyn crossed her arms and looked at the man.

“You didn’t tell me that when I mentioned it in the cave,” she prodded. He shrugged.

“I forgot to mention it, sue me,” he drawled, “It isn’t an Archdemon. It’s just a high dragon Corypheus infected with either the Blight or red lyrium. Or both.”

“How do we kill it?” Leliana asked, drawing herself closer than normal to the tall man.

Erik shrugged. “Stab it and shoot it until it dies. How do you kill anything?”

Leliana looked like she wanted to argue, but then a look of thought and confusion fell on her face.

The look turned into one of dry amusement. “Ass,” the Bard shot playfully. Erik gave a small laugh as Leliana turned to leave.

Erik looked at Evelyn then. “Go talk to him.”

She blinked in slight surprise. “Talk to who?”

“The blond Fereldan man who’s probably sitting in his office right now,” he detailed. Evelyn felt butterflies in her stomach and she shifted slightly in place.

“As Inquisitor, I could just order you to stop talking about it,” she pointed out. Erik rolled his eyes at her and crossed his arms.

“And as your brother, I’d just ignore it and keep pestering you until you got your feet wet.” Her mouth dropped open in feigned shock, and he let out another laugh in response.

“What do you have to lose?” he asked as he walked toward the rotunda and Leliana’s ‘office’.

“And where are you going?” she jabbed.

“I have a date to plan with a smoking hot Orlesian,” he called back, “And you have some... _things..._ to work out with the Commander.”

He sauntered off, soiling her plans to talk about him about his mention of his unhappiness. She sighed and thought for a long moment. He was right. The nervousness and lightness in her stomach every time she saw Cullen wouldn’t just go away if it was ignored. So she decided to see if she could make her own happiness, striding nervously toward the walkway leading to the Commander’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, we've entered into the bulk of the game. The plot will diverge two or three more times from here, but it'll keep the major beats, largely.
> 
> Chapter is named for Hallowed Be Thy Name by Iron Maiden - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J51LPlP-s9o


	21. Closer to the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn learns about Cullen's personal life. Erik goes on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the Middle East is fucking spicy

Evelyn stood nervously in front of Cullen’s new office. She knew she promised Erik and herself that she’d iron out the tension between her and the Commander, but every step she had taken toward the office filled her with the unbearable urge to hide in New Haven until everyone forgot about her. But she couldn’t afford indecision, even in little, personal things like this. So she pressed on, taking a deep breath and knocked twice before opening the heavy oak door.

She found the Commander hunched over his desk, staring wearily at a small mahogany box, as though it were the bane of his existence. As she approached, she noticed it contained a grinder, an empty vial, a wooden spoon, and a pointed instrument she didn’t recognize, along with another vial the size of her little finger and filled with a glowing blue substance. Lyrium, she realized. Evelyn momentarily froze as she recognized the small box. How could she possibly forget? She’d seen countless Templars taking their lyrium draughts during her nearly two decades in the Ostwick Circle. And Cullen was a Templar… or former Templar. Either way, she realized any hope of relieving the tension between them was bound to be fruitless. She had too many misgivings about Templars, and Cullen was still taking lyrium. He could purge her magic at any time; she’d had it happen once, during training, and she felt like she was dying.

As she turned to leave, Cullen glanced up at her. "As leader of the Inquisition, you..." he stopped himself and heaved a sigh, "There's something I must tell you."

Well then. It looked like she was stuck here on account of being his boss. “Whatever it is, I’m more than willing to listen.” That was a lie. She didn’t want to listen. She wanted to go hide in her room and never think about Templars or the Inquisition again, but Cullen was a good enough man that she would be remiss not to listen to whatever he had to say. And she would be a terrible leader if she didn’t listen.

He blinked in surprise. "Right. Thank you." He straightened upright, his face tight and his movements almost jerky and mechanical.

"Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer – some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the templars here. But I..." He glanced down at his box, then looked Evelyn in the eyes with startling clarity.

"I no longer take it."

Her train of thought screeched to a halt as she processed what the Commander had just confessed. "You stopped taking it?"

He nodded. "When I joined the Inquisition. It's been nearly seven months now."

Evelyn’s heart plummeted through her torso. She knew what lyrium withdrawals did. The horror stories she’d overheard from the Templars stationed at her Circle were enough. Dementia, hallucinations, fevers, slow, agonizing deaths that dragged on and on… it seemed horrible. And Cullen had _voluntarily_ stopped?

“Cullen, if this can kill you –”

"It hasn't yet. After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't..." he stopped himself once more and then became resolute, "I will not be bound to the Order, or that life, any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I have asked Cassandra to –" He played with his gloves, " _Watch_ me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved of duty."

“How bad is it?”

“I can endure it.” Not really an answer. People can endure great pain, physically and psychologically. She knew that all too well.But she knew her Commander well enough to recognize when he wouldn’t give her an answer.

“Thank you for telling me. I respect what you’re doing,” she offered. And she meant it. She didn’t want to see him suffer more than he needed to, and a part of her she’d been trying to ignore lashed out at the thought.

Cullen blinked in surprise. "Thank you, Inquisi-- Evelyn."

He took a breath. "The Inquisition's army must always take priority. Should anything happen, I will defer to Cassandra's judgment."

“It won’t come to that,” she reassured, almost as much for herself as for Cullen, “Keep your head held high. If you need anything at all, let me know. I’ll help without hesitation.”

“I thank you for the offer, but this is something I must do alone,” he defended, “It was my decision to join the Templars, and my decision to leave the Order. I will live with the consequences.”

She sighed at his stubbornness. It was almost like Erik, in a way. Did pigheadedness come with joining a military organization?

“Cullen, you don’t need to do this alone. I didn’t go through my trials alone when I returned from Redcliffe. Erik was there for me, and I’ve taken him up on his offers of aid and advice more than once. I don’t know much about lyrium withdrawal, but I’m sure someone to come to when things get bad wouldn’t hurt.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed in thought for several moments, and Evelyn’s stomach did strange, fluttery things. She hated when it did that. Cullen closed his draught case and placed it in a drawer in his desk.

“Thank you. I’ll consider it,” he smiled, his scar tugging slightly on his upper lip. Sweet Maker, why did she come here in the first place?

“Was there anything you needed?” Cullen asked after several awkward moments of them just staring at each other.

 _Well, yes, I wanted to talk about the palpable tension between us and how we should stop beating around the bush like schoolchildren, but the conversation we just had killed the mood_ , she thought.

“It can wait,” she said instead, “I’ve wasted enough of your time, I’m sure.”

“To be honest, I’ve never really felt that any time with you is really wasted,” he returned.

“Well, then perhaps I should spend more time with you if it’s never time wasted,” she jabbed before she could stop herself. Evelyn felt her face grow hot instantly, and Cullen seemed to realize what he’d said as well. His hand went to the back of his neck, that nervous twitch he seemed to have whenever he was shy. No one had any right to be as cute as he was when he became flustered. It made her want to grab his face and –

She stopped that train of thought before it could go anywhere that would mentally scar a child.

“I… uh…” he stuttered, “I think I would rather enjoy that, to be honest.” Wait, what? That lame comment she hadn’t even thought about actually worked?

“Well, then. Good,” Evelyn bit her lip in equal parts anticipation and thought, “I have other duties I must attend to, but I’ll be by when I can.”

Cullen nodded, his professionalism back in place. “Right. Good day, Inquisitor.”

She stopped as she opened the door and narrowed her eyes at the broad man. “Cullen, if you call me that again in private, I’m going to smack you over the head with my staff.”

“I thought you offered to help with my little problem, not make the headaches worse?” A small smile snaked its way across his features, making her throat catch as she swallowed quickly. She gave a grunt to rival Cassandra’s and left the office, hearing the Commander chuckle behind her as she left. Evelyn rolled her eyes as she walked through the brisk mountain air.

 _Men_.

* * *

Erik strode through the rotunda with confidence born of relief. He was not named Inquisitor. Thank fucking god. That was way too many lives in his hands, and while he hated that Evelyn had to do it, she was more suited than he. She at least was a native of Thedas, knew the world and its ways intimately. Erik, if he was being honest with himself, liked setting things on fire, and never fully matured past fourteen, mentally speaking. Though he questioned whether any men really ever did.

Maybe that was why he was to attracted to Leliana. She was mature in ways he doubted he ever really would be. Sure, he put on an air of confidence and maturity, but he was lost in the sauce. He didn’t ever quite know if his advice really helped anyone, and he was only mature when it came to killing people, something he wasn’t exactly proud to admit. Leliana, on the other hand, exuded confidence, though she had confided her own insecurities to him. In a way, it showed a maturity he wasn’t sure others entirely recognized. It took a lot to admit uncertainties as she had, and he admired the Orlesian for it.

Man, he really had it bad, didn’t he?

Erik passed through the rotunda’s first floor to find Solas painting his fresco. Erik stopped almost involuntarily to watch the ancient elven god craft the work of art that would come to dominate the room. Every stroke was made deliberately, without a wavering hand. He didn’t know much about painting, but he knew a master when he saw one. And Solas was surely a master; he supposed thousands of years to hone the craft would do that.

The elf noticed Erik’s presence and raised an eyebrow. “Ah, Erik. Can I help you?”

“Just admiring your work,” he admitted, “I don’t know much about painting, but I know good art when I see it.”

“You flatter me,” the mage responded cordially, “Though I must admit, I’m a bit out of practice.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Erik paused and thought for a moment, “How long have you been painting?” Solas climbed down from the ladder and set the easel on the center table.

“Longer than I can remember. I’ve always been attracted to art. It helps to clear my mind,” he paused, drawing his hands behind him, “Have you dabbled in the arts at all?”

Erik shrugged. “I’ve been playing guitar for over twenty years, but I haven’t touched one since my arrival here.”

“I must admit, I’m not familiar with the instrument,” Solas admitted.

“It’s like a six-stringed lute,” Erik explained as he thought how best to compare it to Thedosian instruments, “Some have seven and eight strings, but they’re for special types of music, mostly. There are tuning pegs at the top, and anywhere from twenty to twenty-four frets. I’ve seen some with twenty-seven, but they’re rare.”

“It sounds similar to an Antivan instrument, though I can’t recall the name,” Solas’s brow furrowed in thought, “I’ve heard that Rivain has a similar instrument, as well. Perhaps you can procure one, if only to connect to your homeland.”

“I just might do that,” Erik sighed, “I’m adjusting but it’s still hard to know I can never go back home.”

“I know the feeling well, I’m afraid,” Solas sighed. They lapsed into silence once more.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll let you find your Spymaster,” Solas grinned. Erik raised an eyebrow at the ancient elf, who only let out a small chuckle in response.

“You haven’t been exactly _subtle_ , Champion.” Erik shook his head and began the six-flight climb toward the rookery. He passed Dorian along the way, who was mumbling to himself in frustration as he reorganized the library for the third time this week. Erik really needed to get drunk with the man. He was exactly the kind of person Erik could find himself befriending. He just needed to find the time before shit seriously started going down.

Finally, Erik found himself in the rookery, and Erik found dozens of beady sets of eyes staring at him from black feathers. The ravens in Thedas had really creeped him out. The ones back on Earth were smart, but Thedosian ravens blew them out of the water. He found one flying toward him, a red tuft of feathers behind its head. It landed on his shoulder and cawed loudly in his right ear before assaulting his chest pocket.

“Baron Plucky! Get over here this instant,” he heard Leliana shout with the voice of an upset mother. The raven on his shoulder huffed indignantly and flapped its way over to Leliana’s glove, and she gave the bird a scowl.

“What have I told you about attacking people for treats?” she scolded the bird as the Bard shook a finger. It made an almost embarrassed cawing sound and dipped its head.

“If you have any more, you’ll get fat, and I won’t have any fat birds in my care. Go. I’ll have a message for you in a little while.” The bird seemed to perk up at that and flew back to its perch.

“I do apologize for that. I can’t seem to get him to stop attacking anyone outside myself and Josie,” Leliana explained.

Erik merely gave a half-shrug and grinned. “Maybe he’s just an asshole.”

“I am starting to believe that more with each passing day,” she murmured, “Some of my agents have sent back horror stories about their experiences with him, but he’s my best raven so there’s nothing I can do.” She shook her head and sat at her desk, a pile of missives before her.

“So, what can I help you with?” she asked, the coolness in her voice somewhat thawed. Erik wasn’t sure if it was because it was _him_ or if she was just in a good mood.

“Do you have a minute?” He tilted his head toward the door that led to the balcony, and she raised an eyebrow but stood all the same. They walked out into the midday sun and closed the door behind them.

“I assume this is about that ‘date’ of yours?” she concluded. Erik nodded and leaned against the stone railing.

“If you have time tonight, I’d like to take you out.” Leliana’s lips curled into a small smile at that and her constantly guarded stance relaxed somewhat.

“As much as I’d enjoy it, I won’t be able to get through everything before supper,” she sighed, taking a similar position against the battlements as he, “Of course, if _someone_ with experience in handling sensitive information were to help, I could be done in an hour or so.”

Erik let out a small chuckle and drew himself back upright and gestured toward the door. “Well, then, we should get started.”

And that was how Leliana roped him into reading messages from all over Thedas. His skill in reading the Common script had improved drastically, and he had almost no trouble reading the correspondence, though he did have a hard time with a few names of unfamiliar cities. About three-quarters through, after he had finished with the note from Magister Tilani regarding the Venatori, Leliana broke the companionable silence.

“Did you have anything in mind for tonight?”

Erik thought for a moment as he placed Maevaris’s note in the Tevinter stack and annotated the proper clearance on it. “Something casual. We could go get some drinks, or we could stay in the keep and read. Maybe go for a ride. It’s up to you.”

“You don’t have a preference?” the Bard pressed.

“Not really,” he shrugged, “The point is to spend time with you outside of work. If you’re happy and enjoying yourself, then I’ll be happy.” They lapsed into silence for almost a minute more before Leliana spoke again.

“I’ve been meaning to go into New Haven, now that it’s almost completely restored.”

“So we’ll have our evening meal down there and see what the city has to offer, then. How does that sound?” He glanced up to find the Spymaster’s deep blue eyes watching him, with an emotion he couldn’t place. Perhaps there was no emotion, and she was simply analyzing his intentions.

“I’d enjoy that quite a bit,” she agreed. Erik gave her a small smile, which she returned. They returned to their work and their companionable silence, organizing and paring down the intelligence reports for Evelyn to go over the next day.

“I win,” Leliana said suddenly; Erik looked up to find her pile was gone. He cracked a half-smile and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” he jabbed, finishing his last message as he did so.

“Well, now you are,” she shot back, leaning onto her elbows slightly, her fingers tented beneath her chin and a smug look on her face.

“If that’s the case, then I call foul play,” he joked, “This is your system. I’m still getting used to it.”

“Well maybe you should acclimate faster to my methods,” she leaned in slightly closer, her voice dropping to almost a murmur, “If you truly intend to court me.”

Erik had no response that came to his mind, so he merely closed the distance between them and stole a gentle kiss. His gamble paid off when he pulled back and Leliana moved to follow, only to find the table blocked her advancement. A frustrated frown grew over her face as he stood and moved to her side in one swift move.

“Remember, tonight is just going to be an evening out between us,” he murmured, “Just be Leliana. Not the Spymaster or Sister Nightingale.” He moved past her and down the stairs. As he began his descent, he heard the Orlesian let out a huff of air.

“Men.”

* * *

"This _thing_ is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet. It has no business being here," Vivienne shot angrily. Evelyn steeled herself for the pitched debate Blackwall had informed her of.

“Wouldn’t you say the same for an apostate?” Solas replied, his voice calm and collected. They turned to Evelyn.

"Inquisitor, I wondered if Cole was perhaps a Mage, given his... unusual abilities," Cassandra said.

Solas nodded in agreement. "He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him. These are _not_ the abilities of a Mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit."

“It is a _demon_ ,” Vivienne said with venom.

“I think the truth is more complex than that,” Evelyn murmured, turning to look at the young man picking flowers in the courtyard, "Cole helped Erik prepare at Haven, including setting up everything we used when we fell down the mine. He’s saved a lot of lives, including mine."

Vivienne clearly disapproved. "And what will its help cost? How many lives will this demon later claim?"

"In fact, his nature is not so easily defined,” Solas explained.

“Speak plainly Solas,” the Seeker shook her head, “What are we dealing with?”

"Demons normally enter this world by possessing something," he clasped his hands behind the small of his back, "In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous."

"But you claim Cole looks like a young man. Is it possession?"

"No," Solas shook his head vigorously, "He has possessed nothing and no one, and yet he appears human in all respects. Cole is unique, Inquisitor. More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so."

Evelyn thought for a moment. Erik had vouched for the spirit boy, but even still… “I should hear what Cole has to say for himself,” she suggested. She turned to look for him, but he was gone. “Where is he now?”

Cassandra began looking around. "If none of us remember him, he could be anywhere..."

Evelyn spotted him near the makeshift infirmary, standing near the wounded soldiers. She left the odd trio and approached the thin boy, his large had mostly obscuring his face.

"Haven. So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape,” he stared at one of the soldiers, going deathly still as he did so, “Choking fear, can't think from the medicine but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat. Hot white pain, everything burns. I can't, I can't, I'm going to... I'm dying, I'm…” the man went still “...dead."

Evelyn looked at Cole. “You’re feeling their pain?”

“It’s louder this close, with so many of them.”

She looked at the dead man, realizing suddenly that she recognized him; she had fought alongside the man at Haven. Sorrow filled her chest.

"Would you like to go somewhere more comfortable?" she asked the young spirit.

"Yes. But here is where I can help." He gazed at another soldier.

"Every breath slower. Like lying in a warm bath. Sliding away. Smell of my daughter's hair when I kiss her goodnight. Gone."

He looked at a different one, a woman coughing lightly on the ground. "Cracked brown pain, dry, scraping. Thirsty." He filled a cup with water, and brought it to the wounded woman on the cot, "Here."

The soldier accepted the drink graciously. "It's all right. She won't remember me."

“So you help people and then make them forget you?”

"Yes," he nodded, "I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't know. I made mistakes… but I made friends, too. Then a Templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help."

“You _are_ real, Cole. Just different.”

He cocked his head to the side for a moment, confused.

The… young man? Spirit? Whatever he was, he was trying to help people. Her people. "If you're willing, the Inquisition could use your help," Evelyn finally offered.

His smile reached his eyes. "Yes, helping. I help the hurt, the helpless, there's someone..." He went to another soldier.

"Hurts. It hurts, it hurts, someone make it stop hurting, Maker please…” he drew a dagger, “The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help."

Evelyn caught a mage and told her to find the Grand Enchanter. If anyone could possibly help, she could. "You say he won't die for hours yet, but you can't know that for certain."

“His body is failing,” Cole said.

"He could recover. Or the healers could find another way to help him."

“How do you know?” he asked sheepishly.

“I don’t. And neither do you. That’s a part of life.”

Grand Enchanter Fiona appeared next to Evelyn, and she quickly explained the situation. She looked over the dying man, then knelt next to him and cast a few spells Evelyn recognized as complex healing magic. His breathing became visibly easier, and color slightly returned to his face.

“Relief…” was all Cole said. He turned to look at Evelyn. “I want to stay.”

She spent the next several hours wandering the castle with Cole as he explained how he thought and how he helped. Some of the odd things that had been happening around Skyhold began to make sense. Missing daggers meant less chance of death when an argument became heated. Cheese drew the mice out, and mice drew the cats out, and mint made them dance and play, bringing a little light too someone’s rough day. Burning turnips made a dying soldier believe he was home in his last moments. Plums on the windowsills attracted spiders, and spider webs could help stop bleeding. Slowly but surely, Evelyn began to understand how he worked.

They sat on the wall near Cullen’s office as the sun was beginning its slow descent, gazing out into the mountains. New Haven was at least five times larger than its namesake, and all of them followed her now. It honestly made her feel uneasy.

She glanced over to the spirit boy to find him kicking his feet aimlessly against the wall like a young boy. He froze suddenly and stared at the bridge leading out of Skyhold. Evelyn followed his gaze and spied two redheads walking out of the main gatehouse, one tall and muscled, the other lithe and feminine with a confident stride. Erik and Leliana, she realized.

“He trusts her because she’s felt hurts like his before,” Cole rambled, “He tries to make her pain less so she doesn’t lose herself, but he admires her strength and passion. He only has to look in her eyes to tell she’s smarter than he is. It makes her beautiful.”

“What about Leliana, Cole?” She felt bad about using the spirit boy to pry into people’s minds – especially Leliana’s – but it looked like her brother was set on courting the woman; she had to be sure the Orlesian wasn’t simply stringing him along.

“He was the first one in a long time that actually cared about how she felt. That didn’t just use her for her skills or for the Game,” Compassion explained, “She doesn’t know quite what he’s seen or done, but she knows it’s enough to temper the naivete. He understands some things must be done, but he still tries to find another answer first. She only asks the Maker why it took a man to arrive from another world for her to discover someone she could envision a future with.”

Evelyn’s pang of guilt grew even more after Cole’s explanation. Of course Leliana wouldn’t manipulate Erik. The woman didn’t do anything halfway. Still, it was somewhat of a pleasant surprise to learn the Spymaster was thinking long-term with Erik. She didn’t want anything less for her brother.

“I don’t understand,” Cole almost stammered, “Her thoughts say he’s from another world, but he’s not. Not entirely, at least.”

Evelyn turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“He’s like me, in a way.” Evelyn froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Are you saying Erik is a spirit?” Cole shook his head, the brim of his hat flopping as he did so.

“I don’t think he’s like me in _that_ way, but still… he doesn’t entirely come from where he thinks.”

Well. Despite whatever Cole had intended, that comment most certainly did _not_ help.

* * *

Erik felt, rather than truly saw, countless pairs of eyes watching him and Leliana as they walked out of the courtyard and through Skyhold’s gatehouse. He supposed it made some sense; the Nightingale made most afraid and the rest at least anxious, and for good reason. She could probably come up with ten ways to kill most everyone she met in as many seconds, and she ran the largest spy operation in the world; even moreso than the Qun, if Iron Bull was to be believed. But as they walked down the walkway toward the lift in the final guardhouse, she wasn’t the Nightingale, or the Left Hand of the Divine, or even the Spymaster of the Inquisition. For a few hours, at least, she was just Leliana.

And her manner of dress for their casual date reflected that. Gone was the chainmail blouse and violet cowl, and the thick leather gloves. In her usual uniform's place a simple, light blue ankle-length skirt and pastel green blouse were all she wore, with a flair of fine shoes made of a fur-lined material he couldn’t place. The simplicity was almost Fereldan, if it weren’t for the complex embroidery and stitching lining her clothing, making an interesting blend of Fereldan fashion and Orlesian flair. Erik supposed it was fitting, seeing as she was a Fereldan woman with the cultural tastes of an Orlesian.

“They’re watching us, you know,” she murmured as they stepped into the lift, the guard on duty saluting them as they entered. Erik returned the gesture and took his place beside his date.

“I’m aware. I think they’re more shocked that you’ve decided not to spend your evening as ‘Princess Stabbity’,” Erik offered facetiously. Leliana let out a small giggle and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Of course you know about that,” she paused, the smile waning slightly but never leaving her lips, “They may be looking at you, to be honest.”

“Why would they be looking at me?”

Leliana shifted her weight slightly as the lift shuddered and began its long descent. “You’re the tallest human most people have ever seen, Erik. You rival most Avvar in terms of sheer size. Even if they don’t know what you look like, they’ve certainly heard the stories of the tall, otherworldly warrior with red hair that has been named the Champion of Andraste.”

He supposed that was true. He’d gotten over the initial shock of just how tall he was in Thedas within the first two weeks. He was the tallest human pretty much wherever he went, true, but he could still hide entirely behind Bull if he wanted, and Blackwall and Cullen were only a few inches shorter than he anyways. His red hair made sure he stuck out like a sore thumb, however.

“Why are you so tall?” Leliana asked, breaking him from his thoughts as he glanced down at her.

Erik shrugged. “My parents are both from a people who were historically very similar to the Avvar in many ways. Height runs in our family. But diet makes a huge impact, as well.” Leliana raised an eyebrow at him, as though she were unbelieving.

“Growing children are always hungry, right?” he explained, “It doesn’t just stop there. The better your nutrition is, the bigger your body will become. You grew up with a noblewoman, well-fed, and so you’re tall and healthy. Same with Cassandra. Peasants and working-class don’t necessarily have the same access to food, but my entire civilization did.”

Leliana pursed her lips in thought. “And Cullen?”

“Cullen’s adolescent years were spent in the care of Templars. I bet you he’s significantly taller than his siblings.”

“And your… physical size? Even our soldiers don’t have your muscle mass,” she pointed out. That was true. As soon as he got to Group he had put nearly twenty pounds of muscle on and kept it. The muscle definition came from not-so-legal supplements, but even without those, the gain train stopped for no man, and it certainly hadn’t made its last call in Thedas.

“I lift heavy things and put them back down over and over, Leli,” she blinked in shock at her new nickname, but he pressed on, “That hasn’t stopped since I’ve come here; the weights are just shaped differently now.” Like boulders, or bags of sand, or bales or hay or carriage wheels.

“Yes, I’ve seen your exercises,” she said, a hint of laughter in her voice, “You listen to that music of yours while you do it. There were a handful of times where we thought a demon had been let loose, with the way the singing sounds.” Erik merely shrugged and didn’t argue.

They lapsed into silence for a minute or so before a gust of wind blew through the open tower. Leliana shivered slightly, rubbing her arms through her blouse as she did so. Erik had to fight a laugh at her expense. He had recommended bringing a cloak; she insisted she didn’t need one. So he’d come prepared. Despite the fact that he was nearly sweating in the heavy thing, he’d brought one of his own cloaks along and worn it just in case.

“Here.” Deciding that the inner lining was probably sufficiently warm, he took it off and draped it over Leliana’s smaller frame. She let out a small sigh of relief as soon as the cloak met her shoulders. It looked a little silly on her – the cloak was far too big for her – but she was warm, and that was what mattered.

“How chivalrous,” Leliana murmured as she leaned into his side. He wrapped his arm around her and the lift met the ground.

“This is warm,” she hummed as they stepped off the platform, “It smells nice, too. I hope you know you aren’t getting this back.” Erik made a noise of protest, but she held up a finger.

“No. Nothing you say will convince me to give this back. It’s warm, it smells like you, and so I’m keeping it. If you wanted it you should have never let me wear it.”

Erik let out a half-laughed huff of air. Less than an hour into his first date with the woman and she was already stealing Thedas’s version of his sweatshirts. Great.

They walked the short way into the busy city of New Haven, Erik’s arm still wrapped around Leliana and her head resting on his shoulder. He looked down at his… date? Girlfriend? He had no idea what to label their relationship.

“So. Where do you want to go?” he asked. He didn’t care where she wanted to go. The contented look on her normally cold face was enough to make the short trip more than worth it. Leliana glanced around for a few moments and then gave a tug on his arm, leading him further into the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look 100k words
> 
> I literally spent most of my free time this week writing this, but I'm tired and there are spook planes flying in the middle of the night so there are probably typos
> 
> Chapter is named for Closer to the Heart by Rush - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyhW2v0NDM0


	22. Moonage Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik spends money. Evelyn gets judgemental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This place is the Thunderdome.
> 
> Yadda yadda Bioware owns Dragon Age yadda yadda.

To be honest, Erik had not expected Leliana to find a luthier, a shoemaker, and a nug breeder in New Haven in under thirty minutes. It was impressive, really; three of the Orlesian woman’s favorite things – music, fine footwear, and oddly cute rabbit pigs with creepy human hand-feet – all within a five minutes’ walk of one another. Erik had never seen her so ecstatic, though he had to convince her they should grab dinner before they went into any of the shops. It wasn’t difficult, really; they were both hungry, though Erik had no idea what to expect with Thedosian food. His knowledge on the subject was limited to an egg breakfast and meat stews, largely, so he let Leliana decide. She’d settled on an Antivan restaurant that had recently opened, and they sat at a table for two in the almost modern restaurant.

The food reminded him of Mediterranean food back home, almost like Greek cuisine, with a hint of Middle Eastern influence thrown in for good measure. His dish was filled with grilled chicken atop leafy greens and diced peppers and tomatoes, themselves sitting atop a flatbread that almost looked like a cross between pita bread and a tortilla. The meal was generously spiced, though it wasn’t overpowering.

“I’m surprised that such a restaurant exists so soon after we settled here,” Leliana commented as she took a sip of wine.

“I’m not. It’s been almost two months since Haven. It makes sense that word would have spread, and if the infrastructure already existed, all people had to do was move in,” Erik noted as he ate another slice of chicken.

“True,” the Orlesian fell silent for a moment, “Though I doubt the purpose of this ‘date’ is to continue discussing things that we cover during work.”

“It isn’t,” Erik agreed, “It’s to get to know each other, and to spend time together on our own terms.”

“I find that very difficult, to be honest,” she noted, “You know an almost disturbing amount about us, yet we truly know very little about you.”

Erik shrugged. “I know enough, but it’s the little things that weren’t portrayed that makes everything different.”

“Such as?” He thought for a moment as he studied the beautiful woman across from him.

“You hum to yourself when you think no one’s watching, for one,” he noted.

“I do not!” she defended in an almost shocked tone. Erik felt a grin slide across his face as he decided to run with the topic for a bit.

“You do. It’s kind of adorable, really. I’m surprised no one’s pointed it out yet.” Leliana let out a huff of air and leaned back in her chair, her face slightly flushed.

“And I’ve noticed you enjoy teasing people for the sake of teasing,” she rebutted. That was true. Especially when he got a reaction like the one he’d just been rewarded with.

“But I don’t know anything else about you,” she noted, “I know you have good character, I can guess at your age, and I knew your occupation, but aside from that I know nothing.”

“Fair,” Erik took a sip of his wine, “What do you want to know?”

“When were you born?” she asked.

“March 3rd, 1991.”

“That means nothing to me, and you know it,” his date pressed. Erik let out a hum and thought for a moment. He remembered reading that the Thedosian calendar had twelve months, each of thirty days. Meaning there were 360 days in a Thedosian year, and the days seemed about the same length in Thedas as on Earth. His last day on Earth was August 22, 2019. He did some quick math.

“My birthday would be 28 Cloudreach, 9:12 Dragon. My first day in Thedas was 2 Solace, 9:41 Dragon, the day of the Conclave. Which means I’m almost five months older here than on Earth.”

“So you turn twenty-nine in five months,” Leliana noted, “Since it’s 14 Firstfall now.”

“I guess it would be,” Erik thought for another moment, “It’s Firstfall? Isn’t Satinalia this month?”

“Yes, in sixteen days. Why?”

“Satinalia is a lot like a holiday back in my world called Christmas, if I remember correctly. Do we have anything planned?”

“Josephine has a feast in the works, and I’m sure there’s gift-giving planned. Were you planning on celebrating?”

“I didn’t even know what month it was until you just told me, Leli,” he admitted, “I’m glad you did, to be honest. Evelyn mentioned that I should start building a life here since I can’t go home, and integrating myself into Thedas’s culture is going to be a big part of that.” Leliana nodded and thought for another moment.

“What did you do when you weren’t working?”

“I was either playing guitar, reading, or shooting guns,” Erik offered. He didn’t want to bring up video games. It was already unsettling enough to everyone that he intimately knew their pasts and futures. It would be too much for them to know that he’d watched over their shoulders as they struggled through their lives.

“You’re a musician?” Leliana perked up, “I’d never expect it. What was the instrument you said you play?”

“A guitar. I’m not sure if it has a different name here. Six strings, tuning pegs at the top, frets on a long neck?”

She thought for a moment before responding. “It’s a cithern, I believe. I saw one in the luthier’s shop earlier. Maybe you can purchase one.” Erik nodded. He might do that. He was getting sick of smacking things and telling people what the future was all day, and now that the majority of the work was done in Skyhold, he really had nothing to do but work out, read, and hit things until he was doing more harm than good with his form.

They spent the remainder of dinner exchanging small tidbits of information about each other. Nothing extremely substantial; Erik suspected that Leliana either didn’t want to dredge up her past traumas or didn’t want to burden him with them, and Erik didn’t really feel like killing the mood with stories about getting blown up and watching his friend die. Once they finished and Erik had paid for them both (much to Leliana’s dismay and his insistence) they’d headed back out into the now twilit city.

Their first stop was the luthier. Leliana was right; there was something he recognized as a guitar in there. He paid the two hundred gold without question and watched as Leliana picked up a lute, put it down, picked it back up, and then put it back down again, a slight frown on her face. Erik made a mental note of the strange moment and they moved on.

To Erik’s surprise, Leliana opted to bypass the shoe store and made a beeline for the nug breeder, a small shop tucked in between a textile shop and a grocer. They entered and were immediately greeted by dozens of the small creatures roaming behind a low gate in one corner. Their small squeaks and chirps reminded Erik of small prey animals back on Earth. It was cute if he was being honest. But it was nowhere as cute as Leliana’s reaction.

He half expected his date to let out a girlish squeal of glee when she saw the small creatures. The normally stoic woman almost ran over to the pen and scooped one up in her arms, a smaller one with brownish coloring that seemed to be thrilled with the attention. It latched onto Leliana’s blouse with its (still creepy) human-like hands and began to snuffle her face.

“Oh, you’re absolutely adorable!” she crooned as Erik approached, “Look at you!”

“You’ve got an eye for them, ma’am,” the dwarven woman behind the counter commented, “Her entire litter was affectionate. We sold the rest of them just earlier this week.”

“Don’t you have two nugs back in Orlais?” he murmured to Leliana as she continued to rock the nug like a baby.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy this,” she whispered back playfully. Erik rolled his eyes and decided to sit back and enjoy Leliana’s brief moment of glee.

It was not, in fact, a brief moment of glee. She continued to play with the young rabbit-like creature for over an hour, during which time she had decided its name was Fudge. Fudge, for one, seemed absolutely enamored with Leliana and towards the hour-and-a-half mark had fallen asleep in her lap.

“I don’t want to leave her,” Leliana almost whined, “She’s just too cute.” She looked at Erik with the saddest face he’d ever seen. He knew she was manipulating him, and she wasn’t even trying to hide it, but still…

He sighed. “How much for the nug?”

And so they walked back into the courtyard, Erik carrying a guitar and Leliana carrying the sleeping Fudge. She had continued to refuse returning his cloak, and Erik found himself unwilling to pressure her for it back. He had plenty of the heavy woolen garments. If she had grown so attached to it, she should keep it.

It was late enough that they weren’t met with many people staring at them, but he saw Cassandra and Josephine watching them as they entered the upper courtyard, Cassandra with a sweet smile and Josephine with a look of shock. Erik ignored both and moved closer to Leliana, snaking his free hand into hers as they entered the courtyard. They climbed the tower that housed both their rooms, and Erik found that both he and Leliana’s suites were situated next to each other, just under Evelyn’s massive chambers.

“Thank you for tonight,” Leliana smiled warmly, “It was nice to relax and not think about my duties, even if it were for such a short time.” Erik felt butterflies dance in his stomach and was worried he would throw up from nervousness.

“Thank you for agreeing to go with me,” he almost forced out of his closing throat, “I’m glad you got a little bit of time to relax.”

Leliana glanced at her door for a moment in thought, then looked back at Erik. “I have no duties tomorrow, and there is still time tonight. Would you like to come in? I’d like to see if you can actually _play_ that instrument you bought.”

 _Oh, so it’s going to be like that, is it?_ Erik thought. “I have nothing to do until a certain individual shows up, so I’ll humor you.”

She gave a slight smile and opened the door to let him in. Her quarters were… sparse, to say the least. A Marcher-style bed with a footlocker, a small vanity, a wardrobe, and a bookshelf sparsely populated with books were the only things of note in the room. She did, however, have a balcony. A two-person wicker couch sat overlooking the valley below, though Erik doubted it had seen much use.

Leliana set the sleeping nug on her bed as Erik moved to light the hearth.

“I apologize that there isn’t much in here,” she muttered as Erik finished lighting the log in the fireplace.

Erik waved his hand in dismissal. “We’ve been here for seven weeks, and you’ve been busier than anyone. It makes sense.” He moved to the seats on the balcony, Leliana following a moment later with a blanket and a bottle of wine.

Erik tuned the cithern quickly and gave it a quick strum. This was a total tool move. Playing a guitar for a girl? He felt like a frat boy. But he did it anyway, partly because he couldn’t think of anything else to do and partly because he missed music from his home. He ran through a couple of scales before Leliana put a hand on his and stopped him.

“How about I teach you a song from Orlais?” she offered. Erik thought for a moment. She was right. He could wallow in his sense of loss in his own time, in his own rooms. He was going to spend this time adjusting to his new world and connecting with a woman he could easily see himself falling in love with. So Erik nodded, and Leliana gave a soft smile that he could have mistaken for a loving one.

Erik didn’t know how long they spent together on the balcony. At some point, he’d put the guitar away and simply listened as Leliana shared her favorite stories. The wine bottle was completely gone by that point, and she had covered them both with the blanket she’d grabbed, staving off the brisk mountain air. Once her stories were over, he’d asked about the stars, and Leliana had launched into her tales that were behind each constellation, pointing out the ones Evelyn had taught him and a couple more he’d never noticed before. At some point, he’d gotten what some would consider improperly close to Leliana, her back pressed tightly to his chest and her head resting just beneath his as they gazed up into the stars.

After almost half an hour of silence and stargazing, he felt her head shift on her shoulder. He glanced down to find her staring up at him.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked quietly. He pondered the question for a long moment before answering.

“I’m thinking about how I’m starting to find my place here. I’m thinking about how today was the most at peace I’ve been in a long time. And right now, I’m thinking you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Okay, it was sappy, but he was being honest. The woman was absolutely gorgeous. And it had caused its intended effect; an angelic smile grew across the Orlesian’s lips and her eyes became glassy just before Erik leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

The new War Room was huge and had too much empty space for Evelyn’s taste. A heavy table, itself really a large piece of uncarved ironwood with a fine map rolled out and weighed down, sat in the center of the soundproofed chamber, markers and notes strewn atop it. Several markers were already placed for active operations throughout Thedas, and every time she saw how many operations they were running – from things as small as helping refugees to stopping massive assassination plots against the King of Ferelden – Evelyn realized just how big the Inquisition had become, and how powerful. Most of its growth had come before the Fall of Haven, but a not-insignificant portion had come since they’d settled Skyhold, as well.

But it wasn’t just how influential the organization had become. By extension, she had become one of the most powerful individuals in the world. She could start a war between Tevinter and Nevarra with just a few words, or stop one from happening. Leliana had even suspected they could probably have the Arishok killed and make it seem an accident if they desired to. The thought of having that much power made her very uneasy; it meant her decisions, her successes and failures, were felt throughout the world.

But the impromptu War Council meeting that day had very little subterfuge, politics, and battle plans. They simply wanted information from Erik and advice on how to move forward. The problem was, no one had seen him or the Spymaster all morning.

“He wasn’t in his chambers?” Cullen asked.

“No,” Josephine confirmed, “And he wasn’t training, either. No one has seen Leliana, either, since they returned from New Haven last night.” An odd part of Evelyn immediately jumped to the conclusion that they’d simply run off and eloped, but she pushed it aside, realizing it was an absolutely ridiculous assumption.

“Did you check her room?” Cassandra asked.

Josephine opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I did not think to. She’s normally up early in the rookery.”

Just then, the door to the War Room opened and Erik and Leliana entered, Leliana bereft of her normal chainmail outfit. They were walking abnormally close, and both seemed more relaxed than Evelyn had ever seen them.

“Sorry. We didn’t hear about a War Room meeting until, like, twenty minutes ago.”

“Where have you been?” Josephine asked, “We’ve been looking for you two for hours.”

“We were in my chambers, Josie. We simply slept in. I didn’t anticipate a meeting today.”

Evelyn’s mind screeched to a halt. They were in Leliana’s chambers? Until ten bells? And Erik had stayed the night? Had they moved that quickly?

“It’s not what you think, Ev,” Erik said as he and the Spymaster approached the table, “So. What’s this about?”

“We need to know what you know, for the future of the Inquisition,” Cassandra explained, “The Inquisitor called this meeting just this morning.”

Erik shook his head. “I’ve told you, not only would telling you everything at once melt your brains, it would also create unforeseen consequences.”

“We don’t need to know everything, Erik,” Evelyn soothed, “Just what’s important.” Her brother let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“Alright. First of all, as far as I know, we will never be attacked here. Anyone who was stupid enough to try would get obliterated, even if they had a dragon. Secondly, as a couple of you have suspected, Marian Hawke will be here soon.”

Evelyn actually saw a vein in Cassandra’s head pulse. “She’s _what_?”

“Varric wrote a letter to her after shit went down with Corypheus,” Erik explained, “I don’t know if he actually _knew_ where she was or if he just knew how to get a message to her, but Hawke is coming here. She’s a necessary part of the things that are about to happen. I’m telling you this now so you aren’t all blindsided by the walking hurricane that she is and so Cassandra doesn’t try and kill Varric.”

Whatever Erik’s hope was, it died when everyone turned and looked at Cassandra. Her face was a visage of absolute fury, and Evelyn was worried she would storm out of the War Room right then and there to try and find Varric. So Evelyn jumped into Inquisitor mode.

“Cassandra, until we either find out what Hawke wants or until you calm down, you are not to be around Varric. That extends to Hawke, as well, when she arrives. Am I clear?”

Cassandra’s jaw clenched and her eyes screwed shut, but she gave a tight nod regardless. “Yes, Inquisitor.”

“Now then,” Josephine sighed, “What does the Champion of Kirkwall want with the Inquisition?”

“That isn’t for me to tell. That’s for Hawke to tell,” Erik deflected. Evelyn sighed; his stubbornness with his foreknowledge could be very irritating.

“Alright. Is there anything else we should know?” Evelyn asked. He was silent for a few moments after that, studying the table and the map atop it.

“We should get our hands on some siege engines,” Erik finally said, almost out of the blue. Everyone in the room looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.

“Siege engines?” Leliana asked. Erik nodded.

“Yeah. Siege engines. You know, trebuchets, battering rams, maybe a ballista or two. It would be a good time to start putting that gaatlok formula I gave you guys to good use, too.”

“Are we going to war?” Cullen asked in shock.

“You think this isn’t already a war, Commander? We’re going to march into _battle_ ,” Erik clarified.

“When is this?” Josephine asked.

“I dunno. It was never clear. Either before or after the Halamshiral incident.” The Halamshiral incident? _That_ certainly made her feel better. Looking around, it did nothing to assuage the others in the room, either. Several people were staring shocked at Erik, and Leliana simply had her brow buried in her hands.

“I can’t divulge anything else,” Erik began before pausing, “Oh! Cassandra, let us know when you find the Seekers. They’re in Ferelden, that’s all I remember.”

Cassandra sighed and dropped her head slightly. “Thank you. I’ll begin investigating more thoroughly.”

“Well, that’s all I wanted to do, to be honest. We can’t do much else until our agents bring more information,” Evelyn sighed. They dispersed, Erik and Leliana leaving together, and Evelyn watched them go.

“Inquisitor? A word, if I may?” she heard Josephine call. She turned to find the Antivan approaching her.

“If this is about Erik and Leliana, I have nothing,” she sighed.

“Oh, no. Nothing like that,” the Ambassador paused, “Though I will be having words with the Champion when I find the time.” Well, that didn’t sound good.

“No, I need to speak to you about one of your duties as Inquisitor. If you’ll come with me,” she gestured down the hall, and Evelyn followed, dreading whatever had been concocted for her. Josephine led her to the Great Hall, and Evelyn stopped in her tracks.

There was a single, significant change: a throne had been placed on the raised dais. An actual throne. It looked to be literally made from swords and looked both regal and foreboding at the same time. The back of the throne had the symbol of the Inquisition molded into it, and Evelyn was sure she would cut herself if she sat comfortably.

"Impressive, is it not?” Josephine said, rather proud, “Fit for a leader. Meant to show influence – and the burden of it. It is where the Inquisition will sit in judgment. Where _you_ will sit in judgment."

Well, this was an unexpected and unwelcome development. “And who will I be judging?”

"Those who have done wrong," Josephine explained, "You will know of them, at the very least. All this presumes they have survived their initial encounter with you or Erik, of course."

“Wonderful. More lives I hold power over,” she muttered sarcastically.

Josephine pursed her dark lips. "You are a beacon of _law_ , Inquisitor, as others retreat from responsibility. But this needn't be bloody. The Inquisition's sovereignty is derived from the allies who validate it. You are both empowered and bound. Justice has many tools. If their application is clever, execution may even seem merciful by comparison.

“When you are ready, take a seat. There is one man awaiting your judgment.”

Five minutes later Evelyn sat on the uncomfortable throne, ceremonial sword in her right hand, its point resting against the ground. She was nervous, and the anchor flared slightly, though it was no longer painful. It had been doing that recently, whenever she let her emotions get the better of her.

Ten minutes later, every visiting noble in the castle was in the throne room. It looked like a royal court. The Inner Circle was all there, as well, Cassandra and Leliana flanking her, with Josephine to her far right and Cullen to her far left. Erik stood at her left hand, stoic and almost regal. Vivienne watched from the balcony above the chamber, along with Dorian and Solas; Iron Bull stood to the right below the large dais, his axe head resting on the ground. Blackwall stood to the left, hand on the hilt of his sword. Varric leaned against the far wall with Sera. She could even see Cole standing in the shadows, his eyes darting this way and that as he stood silent watch.

Fifteen minutes later, Evelyn briefly shook with rage as the soldiers brought the man she was to judge before her. The Anchor sparked violently, letting off a slight snap that echoed through the silent chamber and startled the nobles and commoners in attendance. Gereon Alexius was in chains, his life in her hands.

Josephine began to speak. "You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter. Ferelden has given him to us in acknowledgment of your aid. The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assassination – on your own life, no less. Archon Radonis of Tevinter himself has disowned and stripped him of his rank. You may judge the former Magister as you see fit."

She looked at the man before her and tapped the armrest of the throne.

"I remember what would've happened to Thedas if his treachery had succeeded," Evelyn said as calmly as she was able. She shot a quick glance to Dorian, who nodded in acceptance.

Alexius looked at her with sorrowful eyes. "I couldn't save my son. Do you think my fate matters to me?" Felix was still in the south; he had been granted leave to visit his father a few times, as she recalled. It didn’t matter. Alexius was a shell of his former self.

"Will you offer nothing more in your defense?" Josephine asked poignantly.

"You've won nothing. The people you saved, the acclaim you've gathered – you’ll lose it all in the storm to come,” he spoke regret lacing his words. “Render your judgment, _Inquisitor_."

Evelyn calmed herself with the mental exercise she had been taught to fend off demons, and her mind cleared at once. “Being charged with apostasy is meaningless, given the current political situation, as as I recall, mages in the Tevinter Imperium are indeed members of Circles to an extent. The charges for apostasy are hereby suspended.” A murmur of confusion washed through the crowd, and she saw Dorian raise an eyebrow slightly in surprise. She stared coldly at the man in chains before her.

She hated the man. She wanted to drive him through right then and there, to eviscerate him and hang him from Skyhold as a message to the Venatori. But she couldn’t do that to Dorian, or to Felix. Or to herself, for that matter. Evelyn narrowed her eyes in thought for a long moment before a thought came to her, and she gave a wry smile as she leaned forward.

"Your magic was theoretically impossible, Alexius. You literally sent Lord Dorian Pavus and myself to the future. I could use people like you. Your sentence is to serve, under guard, as a researcher on all things magical for the Inquisition. Fiona will oversee your efforts. You are allowed weekly visitations with your son, as long as he decides to remain in the south. We will do him no harm, and you have my word we will try to find a way to treat his illness." Evelyn leaned back in the throne slightly, both proud and disgusted with herself. She had just gained an agent, however unwilling on either party’s end. Murmurs spread throughout the crowd. Evelyn saw Dorian heave a sigh of relief from the balcony. Blackwall and Iron Bull gave approving nods. Cole gave a smile of relief, and Sera frowned slightly.

Alexius’s eyes lit up slightly at her final statement, and he simply said, “Very well.” The soldiers led him out of the throne room.

“Well, if there’s no one else to judge?” she looked at Josephine, who shook her head. “Then Judgement is adjourned.” Evelyn tapped the ceremonial blade’s point on the ground like a gavel and let it ring out through the hall as she stood and left.

“That went well,” Erik said as they walked toward the ramparts, leaving Alexius in the hands of their mage allies.

“Did it? I just conscripted a criminal into my service. One that would have tortured you to death and killed you to break my friend,” she muttered grimly. Erik stopped and gave her a hard stare.

“In life, sometimes there are no right or wrong decisions. There are hard ones, with no correct answer. You need to choose. And you chose.” Evelyn didn’t respond to his words, opting to stare into the mountains instead.

“For what it’s worth, I think you made the right one,” he offered.

“Your opinion is really the only one I care about,” Evelyn shrugged, “So I’ll take what I can get.”

“You shouldn’t care about my opinion. You need to make your own choices without the opinions of others swaying you,” Erik advised, “Take their opinions into account, sure, but never let them sway you. Weigh them against what you know and what you think is the right choice.” They lapsed into silence once more until Erik did a double-take and stared at two women arriving through the front gates of the fortress.

“Is that… is that who I think it is?” he asked in shock.

She glanced at the women riding in on horseback. “You know those women?”

“I know Varric said that she’s not supposed to arrive for a couple weeks, but I think that’s Marian Hawke,” Erik said in awe, “And Isabela.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a couple of people ask to see what exactly happened during Erik & Leliana's date, so I wrote it. Nothing too substantial during this chapter.
> 
> Chapter is named for Moonage Daydream by David Bowie - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFDj3shXvco
> 
> Also, send your recommendations for something I should play during my downtime over here, Ghost Recon is too big to download all at once.


	23. L'Enfant Sauvage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets blackmailed by a dog. Evelyn speaks with the other Champion and plays chess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look this one's longer than normal.
> 
> Blah blah Bioware owns the world standard disclaimer

To say Erik was surprised at Hawke’s presence would be an understatement. Varric said she wasn’t supposed to arrive for a couple of weeks more, at least. Yet even though he had never actually _seen_ the Champion of Kirkwall in the flesh, the raven hair was unmistakable. He couldn’t really discern any other features from this distance, but he could see a massive dog walking to her left, which meant Hawke had brought her Mabari. To her right was the pirate queen Isabela. Once again, he couldn’t make anything specific out, but her trademark bandanna stood out against her copper skin.

He was tentatively excited for two reasons. The first was because he had never seen a Mabari up close before, and he wanted to meet one. The second was because from Varric’s descriptions of Hawke’s actions in _Tale of the Champion_ , she was Purple with Blue tendencies, which meant shenanigans were sure to follow.

“Well, things just got interesting,” Evelyn said from his side, mirroring what Erik was thinking, “We should probably give her some time to settle in, then I’ll go talk to her.”

“I’m not joining you for that,” Erik decided, “I don’t want my first interaction with Marian Hawke to be about the evil Darkspawn Magister she stabbed in the face.”

“Any plans in the meantime?” she asked. Erik thought long and hard about his response.

“I’ll be writing, probably. There’s a potential thing I need to prepare for now that I’m here.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what that is?”

“My death,” came his blunt response. She blinked in surprise and studied his face intently.

“Do you plan on dying?” she tentatively questioned after a minute. Erik sighed and gave his sister a sad look.

“Most people don’t plan on dying, Ev. I’m just preparing for every eventuality, like always.” Evelyn frowned at his dodgy response but nodded. He turned to leave.

“Have fun with the shitshow that Hawke’s gonna dump on you,” Erik bluntly shot as he descended from the battlements.

Ten minutes later he found himself staring at a blank piece of paper, unsure what to write. He knew he needed to prepare for his potential death. This wasn’t fanfiction, and he didn’t have plot armor. He could die at any time; he’d accepted the fact after his first firefight nearly six years ago. But he wanted to leave behind something for the friends he’d made in case he did get killed. Erik knew he didn’t have very many personal possessions in Thedas, so a will was easy – everything would go to Evelyn.

No, what he wanted to write was a warning about everything he knew. Even though they wouldn’t have known had he never been brought to Thedas, if he was here he might as well give them a fighting chance. At the very least, he wanted to warn them about the Antaam going insane and Solas being a god. So he put pen to paper and started writing.

_If you are reading this, I’m probably dead. If I’m not, chances are the reader is either Leliana or Charter, in which case screw you put this away. If I was killed, please kill my killer back. If I died doing something stupid, I went out doing what I love._

_Anyways, this is –_

A knock came at his door, breaking his train of thought. He put the pen down and moved across the room, questioning who would be knocking at his door beside a servant; everyone else was busy either working or training.

He found Charter standing on the other side of the frame. She was leaning lazily against the stonework outside his room, a small stone in her left hand.

“Charter,” he greeted, “What can I do for you?” She gave a small, wry smile.

“I was hoping to steal a few moments of your time. There are matters I need to speak to you about,” she responded, stepping into the room. Erik closed the door behind her. He had to admit, this was a surprise. He’d hardly interacted with Charter since his arrival in Thedas, though he knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of, even if very few people in the Inquisition did. Erik gestured to the chair across from his and sat down as the elf woman mirrored his actions. Charter placed the stone on his desk and Erik immediately recognized it as Leliana’s silencing rune. His mind quickly switched gears.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“I’m assuming you saw Marian Hawke and her lover arrive in Skyhold earlier,” Charter responded. Erik nodded and lounged slightly in his chair. It seemed like she was studying his reactions for a brief moment before she spoke again.

“I’ll be blunt. What do you know about the incident at Chateau Haine?” she questioned.

Chateau Haine? “Hawke went there under the pretense of a wyvern hunt hosted by Duke Prosper,” he began, “But was really helping a Ben-Hassrath agent called Tallis recover something for the Qun. Her cover was blown and Prosper was killed, but Tallis was able to recover the entire list of agents in Thedosian countries.” Charter was silent for a moment.

“It seems we’ve encountered something your world got wrong about ours,” she decided, “You see, I was at Chateau Haine, under the guise of a serving girl. It was where I first met Leliana, in fact, but that’s beside the point. I was trying to gain more information about the list you mentioned for a third party. Most of what you explained was correct, but Tallis didn’t recover the document. She was killed in the confrontation with Duke Prosper. After Hawke killed him, the document disappeared. I was never able to track it down.”

Well, this was a new development. “You think she has it with her,” he concluded. Charter nodded her assent.

“I want you to find out if she has that list on her and retrieve it if she does,” the elf proposed, “I would do it myself, but there are other things the Inquisitor and Sister Nightingale have asked me to do.”

Erik thought for a moment about the implications of what he’d just been told. There was a list of every Qunari sleeper agent in Thedas. And it was in Skyhold. Sure, it was probably a few years out of date, but how often could the Qun really send new agents down south? The logistics were not very favorable; it wasn’t like they could just send them in via a stealth plane. Plus, with Dragon’s Breath on the horizon and who the hell knows what else in the future, that list would likely be invaluable.

“I’ll get it done,” he agreed.

“Good,” Charter nodded, “The list will likely be in Hawke’s belongings. She’s a borderline alcoholic, so chances are she’ll be getting drunk tonight. That will be your best window to get ahold of the list. Transcribe it if you can, steal it if you can’t. Hawke and Isabela are being housed in the third guest room above the gardens. I’ll make sure it’s unlocked for you.”

“I’ll make sure it gets to Leliana tonight,” Erik agreed. Charter gave another nod and left without another word.

He sighed and pushed his own little Book of Revelation aside. It would have to wait, he had work to do. He stood and went over to the chest that contained his possessions from Earth, pulling his phone out and turning it on. He would just take a handful of photos of the list rather than stealing it or transcribing it right then and there. He could transcribe it later; his window for this was probably going to be small.

* * *

Evelyn gave it twenty minutes, then rushed over to where Hawke and Isabela were speaking to Varric as quickly as she could. The dwarf leaned against the low wall of the landing, nodding to her as she approached. He gestured to the raven-haired woman.

“Inquisitor, meet Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Though, I don’t use that title much anymore,” Hawke sighed. Evelyn looked at the tall woman. She was dressed for battle, covered in light armor that was painted black and blood red. Two long, ornate daggers were at her back, and she had a streak of war paint across her straight nose. Her black hair was slightly longer than a pixie cut, shaggy and falling into her eyes, and looked somewhat unkempt but not horribly so. Her light blue eyes shone with an intelligence Evelyn had seen on few people.

"Hawke, Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus,” Varric smiled knowingly, “You and I _did_ fight him, after all." The dwarf author grabbed a large bottle sitting on the wall and wandered off behind them.

Hawke leaned forward against the wall, gazing out into Skyhold. She gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "You've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I'm sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison."

“Oh, I don’t know. You did save a city from a horde of rampaging Qunari,” Evelyn rifled back with a joking edge.

The Kirkwaller turned and raised an eyebrow. "I don't see how that really applies… Or is there a horde of rampaging Qunari I don't know about?"

"There's _a_ Qunari. He almost qualifies as a horde by himself. Fortunately, he's on our side." Evelyn made a mental note to inform Bull about Hawke’s presence. Truthfully, she was unsure of how he would react to the news that the woman who killed the last Arishok was wandering the castle. Hawke, on the other hand, tensed almost imperceptibly, as did the bronze-skinned woman behind her. "Corypheus has already killed the Divine, along with countless others,” Evelyn quickly redirected, “And he'll kill a lot more unless we end him."

"You've already sealed the Breach. That's damned impressive." She sighed deeply, and for a moment looked older than her thirty-five years. "I could barely get my friends to stop fighting, or convince that one to tie the knot with me,” she gestured to her wife, who was taking turns drinking from Varric’s bottle. “Still, if you think I can help..."

“Varric said that you fought Corypheus before?" Evelyn knew the story already. Erik had told her enough about it.

"Fought _and_ killed. The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the Darkspawn to influence them."

The woman, who Evelyn deduced was Isabela, piped up. "Corypheus got into their heads. Toyed with their minds. Turned them against each other."

"If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again,” Hawke continued.

"If that's what happened to the Wardens, do you think we can free them?" she asked, deciding it was time to press her brother for more information.

Hawke shrugged. "It's possible. But we need to know more first." She paused and contemplated for a moment.

"I've got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Nathaniel Howe. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing."

"Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks,” Varric agreed, “You said you haven’t heard anything since. Did your friend disappear with them?"

"No. He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood." She glanced at her wife for a brief moment.

“If you didn’t know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?” Evelyn asked.

"The Templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium,” she explained, “It was red." Evelyn sighed. Of course, it was red lyrium. Hawke nodded in understanding. "I'd hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it."

"I’ve dealt with it before. Corypheus had Templars with him at Haven. They looked like they'd been exposed to red lyrium. Nasty stuff."

"Hopefully my friend in the Wardens will know more," Hawke grimaced.

“Thank you,” Evelyn nodded, shaking the taller woman’s hand, “I appreciate the help.”

"I'm doing this as much for myself as for you,” she said as his face darkened, "Corypheus is _my_ responsibility. I thought I'd killed him before. This time, I'll make sure of it."

An hour later, Evelyn heard a commotion in the building where Cassandra slept. Hoping it wasn’t the confrontation she had forbade the Seeker from having, she rushed inside to find Cassandra throwing Varric around in rage.

"You knew where Hawke was all along!" the Right Hand of the Divine yelled.

"You're damned right I did," Varric put some distance between him and the furious Seeker.

"You conniving little shit!" Cassandra swung her fist at Varric, only for him to duck and step back again.

"You kidnapped me. You interrogated me. What did you expect?"

"Hey," she snapped, approaching the two. "Enough."

“You’re taking his side?” Cassandra spat incredulously.

Evelyn quickly lost her patience. “I said _enough!_ " she slammed her fist down on a nearby table with as much force and magic she could muster, shattering the wood. Varric and Cassandra both stepped back in shock.

Cassandra took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. "We needed someone to lead this Inquisition," she explained, "First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but he had vanished. Then we looked for Hawke, but she was gone, too. We thought it all connected, but no." She spun toward the dwarf.

"It was just you. _You_ kept her from us."

Varric gestured to Evelyn, who quietly found herself fuming in the corner of the loft. "The Inquisition has a leader."

"Hawke would have been at the Conclave," Cassandra said shakily, "If anyone could have saved Most Holy..." She looked on the verge of rage-filled tears.

“It would have been Aedan Cousland,” Evelyn snapped, “Not Garrett Hawke. Hawke is a good woman, and a strong fighter, but from everything I understand about The Warden, he’s an unstoppable force.” Evelyn had seen the look in Hawke’s eyes. She was just a person. A woman who had seen too much and held on to far too little. She was tired, and at the end if the day she was done carrying the weight of the world's problems.

Evelyn sighed and continued. "You can't change the past, Cassandra."

"So I must accept… What? That the Maker wanted all this to happen? That He, that He..." She was inconsolable, and her face twisted into a malicious scowl, "Varric is a liar, Inquisitor. A snake. Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, Varric kept him secret."

"She's with us now," Varric defended, "We're on the same side."

“We all know whose side you are on, _Varric_ ,” she spat his name like it was poisoned wine, “It will never be the Inquisition’s.”

"Attacking him now won't help us, Cassandra. And I told you to avoid Varric until this had smoothed over," Evelyn spoke with furious calm.

"Exactly," Varric said. She glared at him, and he shrunk a little smaller.

“And _you’d_ better not be keeping anything else from us.”

Varric stammered for a moment, but dropped his head and sighed. “I understand.”

"I must not think of what could have been," the Seeker sighed, "We have so much at stake. Go, Varric. Just… go." She hung her head.

Varric turned to leave like a chastised child. He took a couple of steps down the stairs, then turned back to Cassandra. "You know what I think? If Hawke had been at the temple, she'd be dead, too. You people have done enough to her." He silently descended the stairs and left the building.

Cassandra laughed bitterly. "I believed him. He spun his story for me, and I swallowed it. If I'd just explained what was at stake..." she put her head in her hands and leaned on the railing. "If I'd just made him understand. But I didn't, did I? I didn't explain why we needed Hawke. I am such a fool." She walked to a chair and plopped down, looking completely dejected.

Evelyn pulled up the other chair and sat across from her. “Have you looked at the Inquisition, Cassandra? We're all idiots, here,” she laughed “It’s insane!” She looked at Evelyn, obviously not convinced.

“The youngest person in the Inquisition’s higher ranks is the one in charge. We have Tevinter nobles, Ben-Hassrath spies, Mages, Templars, a spirit running amok, and my surrogate brother, who’s from another world, is courting the spymaster. I’ve been Inquisitor for less than two weeks and I’m running this place like a madhouse."

The Seeker laughed, somewhat bitterly. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

She shook her head. "More at home, maybe. You need to be a little insane to do what we do.”

Cassandra nodded slightly, then raised her head and looked Evelyn in the eye. "I want you to know, I have no regrets. Maybe if we'd found Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden, the Maker wouldn't have needed to send you. Needed to take Erik from his world. But He did. You're… Not what I'd pictured. But if I've learned anything, it's that I know less than nothing." 

Evelyn put a hand on her shoulder. “So you learn. That’s all that life is: a series of mistakes, broken up by learning from them.”

She smiled. “You’re wiser than your age, you know. I don’t know if I could have asked for a better Inquisitor.”

Evelyn thought for a moment. “And I don’t know if I could ask for better friends.”

“I _did_ almost beat you the first time we met,” she laughed.

“Eh, we all have our moments. Drinks at the tavern?”

They wandered out of the building and over to The Herald’s Rest, where they found Hawke and her wife at a table with Varric. The dwarf saw Cassandra and nearly bolted before the Herald put up a hand in assurance and sat down with the Seeker.

“I… would like to apologize, Varric. What I said… it was unbecoming of me,” Cassandra said shamefully.

Varric was silent for a moment, his face unreadable. “Apology accepted, Seeker.”

“Seeker? This is the woman that kidnapped you, Varric?” Hawke’s wife asked joyfully.

Hawke put her drink down and gestured. “Inquisitor, my wife, Isabela.”

Evelyn got her first real look at the woman. She had tanned skin and amber eyes that glinted with constant laughter. Her dark hair was pulled back underneath a blue bandanna, leaving her long, oval face bare. Her body was built like sex come to life; and her clothing left little to the imagination and was covered in baubles and finery that were probably lifted from someone born into a higher class. Honestly, she looked like a pirate.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Evelyn nodded.

“Oh, such the lady! Why aren’t you like this, Hawke?” she said flirtatiously. Evelyn made a mental note to avoid her. She seemed like trouble

“Because you wouldn’t have married me if I were like that?” she said somewhat facetiously as she drank from her mug.

“True,” she hummed joyfully.

Evelyn took a drink and looked at Hawke. Time to figure some stuff out so Erik didn’t have to. “So I heard you had family and friends in Kirkwall. Where are they now?"

“Well, you’ve met Isabela. My little sister’s a Grey Warden. She was on her way back to the Free Marches last I spoke to her. I told Aveline to take her as far from Orlais as possible." She set the empty mug on the table and spun it a couple of times. “Fenris is… out and about, and Merrill is still in Kirkwall, last I knew.”

"I assume Varric's been feeding you information about the Inquisition?” she asked.

"Only good things, I promise," Hawke and her friend said at the same time. She refilled her drink. "I was a little surprised, actually. Varric isn't one for religion in general, but he thinks highly of the Inquisition. I think the exact phrase was..." she cleared her throat and imitated Varric’s voice almost perfectly, "Has a good shot at fixing Blondie's mess."

She nodded, deciding not to ask about Anders. She knew he was probably more complicated than everyone made him out to be, and that how it ended with him was certainly more than tough. “Well, I’m glad they’re all relatively safe. If you want, you can tell Aveline to bring your sister here. I know we aren’t necessarily ‘as far from Orlais as possible’, but I promise we’ll keep her out of harm’s way.”

Hawke thought for a moment. “I’d appreciate that. I’ll send word when I get the chance.”

She nodded. “I’m planning on leaving for Crestwood in a week or two, by the way.”

“I’ll ride out ahead of you, get everything settled. But I wouldn’t mind a bit of time to relax."

“Take all the time you need,” Evelyn agreed, backtracking on her former statement a bit, “I doubt my companions will complain about riding out anytime soon.”

“Speaking of companions,” Isabela interjected, “I’ve heard you have a counterpart. He’s from another world?”

“He is indeed,” Evelyn heard Erik’s voice come from across the tavern. She turned to find Erik striding toward the table with a glass of bluish-red colored mead. He plopped himself down into the last open chair at the table and drank deeply from his glass.

“Erik Andersen. A pleasure to meet you,” he greeted with a charismatic smile.

“Marian Hawke,” Marian greeted jovially, “It seems our mutual friend just likes naming people champions.”

“It does seem that way, doesn’t it? Almost like he has a fetish for it,” the offworlder laughed, shooting a glance at the dwarf, who gave a slight shrug at his accusation.

“So, this is the ‘seer from another world’,” Isabela accused, “Forgive me if I sound skeptical, but we have plenty of your kind in Rivain.”

“You mean charlatans, Naishe?” Erik raised an eyebrow. Isabela froze entirely, her face growing slightly pale.

“What did you just call me?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Evelyn’s eyes darted between the two, confused as to what’s going on.

“I wouldn’t know that name if I were a charlatan, now would I?” her brother pointed out. Isabela seemingly tried to choke out a response but couldn’t.

“He does that,” Varric tried to diffuse the newfound tension at the table.

“What, dredges up old memories no one knows about?” Isabela laughed almost hysterically.

“Yeah, to prove he is what he says he is,” Varric responded. A silence grew over the six of them for several minutes before Erik slapped the table.

“Look, I’m sorry about that, but if there’s one thing I hate, it’s people calling me a liar,” he paused, “Let me buy you and Hawke drinks. Start off on a fresh foot.”

Marian’s lips twisted into a grin, “Ooh, look, Izzy, he knows how to get to our hearts.”

An hour later, Erik was best friends with Hawke and Isabela. The two women had been drinking heavily and were decently drunk, and Erik seemed to be as well, though Evelyn knew him well enough to tell when he’s faking it.

“So then I say, ‘Looks like the Duke… has fallen from grace,” Hawke babbled out. Evelyn saw Cassandra snort back a laugh at the terrible pun, and Erik just rolled his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure someone cringed all the way in Minrathous when you said that,” he drawled.

“Come on, Erik, it’s not like you can do any better,” Evelyn jabbed. He shrugged in acquiescence.

“Probably true.”

“I need to get a missive out to Bethany if you’re serious about housing her here,” Hawke said to Evelyn, completely changing the subject, “Preferably without the Nightingale peering over my shoulder while I do it.”

“I can keep Leliana occupied while you send it, if you need,” Erik offered. Evelyn choked on her drink at his slight innuendo.

Isabela raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what will she be occupied with, I wonder?”

He smiled wryly. “It’ll probably be something… less than wholesome.” Cassandra choked on her drink.

Isabela leaned in. “You know, I have a couple of suggestions, if it’s _less than wholesome_ ,” she slurred, “You see, there’s this thing, with a pot of honey and a greased nug...”

* * *

Well, he’d done it. He’d made sure Hawke and Isabela were hammered drunk. Now all he needed to do was –

He looked across the table to find Hawke with her head on the table, passed out drunk. _Fucking lightweight,_ he thought.

“I’ll make sure to get her back to our chambers,” Isabela hiccuped.

“Well, it’s been fun,” Erik said, seeing his window as he stood up, “I’m going to bed before more bad decisions or jokes about my love life are made.”

“Don’t forget the pot of honey!” he heard Isabela call after him as he left the Herald’s Rest. He brushed the comment off with a small laugh and made his way toward the gardens.

As he moved he thought about where Hawke could possibly keep the document. He’d seen her entry into Skyhold; she was packed light, as was Isabela. Probably a few clothes and other essentials, and not much else. It was probably with those since they hadn’t been at the fortress for even a day. He walked through the garden, passing by Mother Giselle as he did so.

“Ah, Champion. Is there something I can do for you?” Giselle asked as he walked through the darkly twilit garden. Erik bit back a curse and smoothed his face into a smile.

“Actually, yes. I need to drop something off for the Champion of Kirkwall. Can you tell me where your room is?” he spoke cordially.

Giselle nodded. “The third room from the staircase. I would warn you, however, that Madame Hawke’s mabari is in the room currently. I don’t know if you’ve encountered one, but they can be very protective.”

Fuck. He forgot about the mabari. Well, he’d just have to be quiet. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll try to talk him down if he gets upset that I’m there.”

“Of course, Champion. Good evening,” the Chantry Mother bid. He gave a nod and strode up the staircase.

Erik located the third guest room quickly and checked the latch. Unlocked, just like Charter said it would be. He gently pushed the door open, praying it wouldn’t creak and that the mabari was asleep.

It didn’t creak, and the mabari was asleep. He was laying on his back, front paws curled to his chest and jowls flopped toward his snout, baring his long canines in a goofy-looking grin. He snored softly as he slept, and Erik tried to sneak around him and through the room.

He failed. As he crept past the dog’s hind legs, he let out a snort and twisted around into a sitting position. Erik froze and turned to face the war hound. He was way bigger up close, reaching Erik’s mid-chest even sitting. It didn’t look upset, beyond the fact that he was woken from his nap. It stared at him with almost human eyes, cocking his head to the side.

“Hey, buddy,” Erik spoke confidently. He’d always liked dogs, and this behemoth staring at him was no different. The mabari let out a quiet huff in response, which he assumed was a hello.

“I’m just here to drop off something for Hawke. That okay with you?” he asked. The dog let out a grunt in response and curled back up on the rug.

“Sorry for waking you.” An almost haughty sigh was the response he received. Was the dog giving him sass?

Erik shook the thought out of his head and looked around the room. There wasn’t much. Two packs, one simpler than the other, but both very full. A washroom stood off to the right, and a vanity and tub sat in it, with a small fire rune in the tub to heat the water. The bed was what he would have called a queen back home, large enough to fit Hawke and her wife comfortably. He tiptoed toward the simpler of the two packs, assuming it was Hawke’s.

He didn’t even have to go through Hawke’s belongings, which he was grateful for; he wasn’t too keen on going through people’s belongings, but this was important. A scroll sat snugly on the left side of the pack, close to the frame and straps. He gingerly pulled it out and unrolled it, praying it was what he was looking for.

Half of it was in Arabic. Or Qunlat, whatever. Jackpot either way. The right-hand side held the Qunlat names, or titles, of each of the agents, and the left held their cover names in southern Thedas. It was long. Too long to take a single photo of. He rolled it out on the bed slowly.

Something wet poked his hand. He turned to see the mabari was awake again, looking at him with big, intelligent eyes. Erik let out a sigh.

“Look, I lied earlier. I’m sorry,” he said to the dog. The dog grunted in response as if to say, _Well, obviously_.

“I’ll tell you the truth. This scroll could save a lot of lives in the future. I was told to take the information on it and bring it to the spymaster,” he explained, “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

The dog let out a noise that sounded almost skeptical. Erik translated it as, _I dunno, man, you gotta sweeten the deal for me_.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you treats tomorrow. How does a sweet roll at breakfast sound?” The dog huffed twice.

“And lunch, sure. Whatever will keep you quiet.” The hound’s tongue lolled out of its mouth happily, which Erik took as a good sign. He wasn’t going to lie, though, the human-like intelligence this dog had was creepy. He gave a nod to the dog.

“Then we’re in agreement. Let me do what I’ll need to do and you’ll get a sweet roll at breakfast and another at lunch,” he summarized. The dog sat down and watched him curiously, and Erik got back to work, unrolling the scroll entirely.

There were at least seven hundred names on the list. He had to take at least twenty photos to get it all, though he did get it all in a timely manner, which he was rather proud of. Erik rolled up the parchment scroll, then put the scroll back and re-strapped the pack, stepping toward the door.

“I’ll find you for those sweet rolls tomorrow,” he said to the mabari. _You better_ , seemed to be the look he got. He closed the door behind him and headed for the rotunda.

He didn’t find his girlfriend in the rotunda, which meant she’d already gone to bed. So he headed toward the Inquisitor’s Tower, as it was starting to be called, and made it to the second to top floor. He knocked on the door next to his and waited. The door opened slightly and Leliana’s head peeked around it, a confused look on her face.

“Erik? It’s late, what are you doing here?” she asked. He held up his phone in response.

“As much as I’d love to say it was to spend time with you, it’s for business,” he responded. She raised an eyebrow.

“What business do we have to conduct?”

“I got it.” Her eyes grew wide at that, and the door opened slightly wider, her hand darting out and grabbing his wrist, pulling him into the room. The door latched behind him.

“Close the balcony doors,” she ordered, and he complied.

“I’m assuming you’re going to grab the silencing –” the words died in his throat as he turned around. He suddenly understood why Leliana hadn’t opened the door more than a hair when he’d knocked. She was dressed in just a sleeping chemise, almost sheen. It took every ounce of his willpower to ignore his lizard brain and meet her eyes, and it was clear Leliana was very aware of the fact. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and shifted her weight to one hip, making his task even more difficult.

“Well? You said you have it?” she almost demanded. He shook himself out of his stupor and unlocked his phone. He walked over to Leliana’s desk and pulled the photos up, gesturing for the spymaster to follow. She peered over his shoulder as he zoomed into the pictures.

“We’re gonna have to transcribe it. I didn’t want to stay in there longer than I had to,” he explained.

“Was there a reason for that?”

“Hawke’s mabari was there. I had to promise him two sweet rolls to keep quiet.”

She gave him a confused look. “You let a _dog_ blackmail you?”

“I let a _mabari_ blackmail me,” he corrected, “You’re friends with Aedan Cousland, you know how smart those bastards are.”

She gave a small shrug. “That’s fair. What did you find?”

He scrolled through the photos. “There are probably seven hundred names in here, organized by country. Orlais and Tevinter have the most sleeper agents, the Anderfels and Rivain have the least. When was the incident at Chateau Haine?”

“The summer of 9:36 Dragon,” she provided. Erik thought.

“This list is five years out of date,” he said, “Though I doubt it’s changed much. It’s an ordeal to place undercover agents anywhere, let alone to ship them across the world and through several hostile countries without being detected.”

She hummed in agreement. “I see Iron Bull’s name here. What’s that Qunlat title he has?”

“ _Hissrad_. It means one who creates illusion, or liar if you want to be blunt,” he explained.

She grabbed a stack of parchment, a pen, and an inkwell. “We’d better get to work. I don’t know Qunlat, so you’re going to have to write the list.”

“That’s fine,” he shrugged, “Just read the names off. Drag your finger up across the screen when you run out of names.”

And so they got to work and got very little sleep that night.

* * *

Evelyn woke without a hangover, surprisingly. She went about her morning routine and headed down for breakfast, eating in companionable silence with Erik, Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen. A couple eyebrows were raised when a dark, wet nose poked its way over the top of the table and Erik grabbed some sweet bread before handing it to the animal. She watched as Hawke’s mabari trotted off proudly, its prize in its mouth.

“We have an agreement,” he explained. Though that didn’t explain much, to be honest.

She didn’t have much to do, now that she’d sent Harding out to scout the Crestwood region, so she wandered the castle aimlessly. Fiona had started teaching the younger mages on the third floor of the rotunda, though she doubted they were into any form of advanced magic. Vivienne was in some meeting with Josephine and a noble Orlesian couple, and she wanted no part of that unless she had to. Eventually, she found herself in the garden and saw Cullen sitting with Dorian, both men staring at something on the table. Her curiosity piqued, she approached the gazebo and saw a chess game nearing its end.

“Gloat all you like. I have this one,” Cullen was bragging.

“Are you… _sassing_ me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Dorian responded in his typical gleeful tone. Evelyn smiled slightly. The budding friendship between the two men was something that no one, save possibly Erik, had expected. It made her think. If Cullen could be so relaxed around such a skilled and powerful mage like Dorian, then maybe…

“Why do I even –” Cullen stopped his half-hearted grumbling when he saw Evelyn approach, “Inquisitor.” The Fereldan started to stand.

“Oh, leaving, are you?” Dorian jabbed, “Does that mean I win?” Cullen rolled his eyes and sat back down.

“Are you two playing nice?” Evelyn asked with a hint of laughter in her voice.

“I’m _always_ nice,” the Tevinter smirked, turning back to Cullen, “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You’ll feel much better.”

“Really?” Cullen asked, moving a knight into a checkmate position, “Because I just won. And I feel fine.” Dorian looked down at the board, a slightly shocked look on his face.

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Don’t get smug. There will be no living with you.” The Altus stood with a smile on his face.

“I should return to my duties as well,” Cullen spoke to Evelyn, “Unless you would care for a game?”

Her heart involuntarily jumped into her throat and attempted to break out of its prison in her chest when it dropped back down. She wasn’t sure why. But it was a chance to make good on her promise to Erik, and to get out of her own shell and comfort zone, as well.

“Prepare the board, Commander,” she grinned. Dorian started to leave.

“Have fun being alone with our _dashing_ Commander,” he whispered as he swept past. Evelyn fought the reddening of her cheeks as best she could and sat down. Cullen started to set the pieces.

“As a child, I played this with my sister,” he said as he worked, “She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won, which was all the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks.”

She sat down and examined his features as they turned wistful. “The look on her face the day I finally won…” he paused and leaned back in his chair, meeting her gaze, “Between serving the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.”

This was new. “You have siblings?” she asked.

“Two sisters and a brother,” he nodded.

“Where are they now?” She made her first move, pushing a pawn up two spaces.

“They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write them as often as I should,” he explained, “Something Erik pointed out when I first met him.”

She let out a small laugh. “He told you to write to your siblings?”

“We were all skeptical of what he claimed at the time, so he told us each something about us that only we knew. I’d never told anyone in that room what my older sister’s name was, though I’m sure Leliana probably already knew.” He pushed a piece toward hers.

They continued making their moves and making small talk, and Evelyn lost track of time. She felt more relaxed than at any point since she’d been named Inquisitor, which, granted, wasn’t that long. Regardless, she felt completely at ease. At some point, she heard a handful of short, clipped barks, and both Cullen and Evelyn looked up to see Hawke with her Mabari, a group of children playing with the massive war hound.

“Despite everything that happened in that damned city, and despite her brusqueness, Hawke was always a good woman,” Cullen commented.

“How well do you know her?” Evelyn asked. He thought for a moment.

“I wouldn’t say we’re necessarily friends,” he said, “For most of the decade she was in Kirkwall I knew her more by reputation than anything. After Meredith, however, she and I worked together to bring the city back into shape. When the Rebellion started picking up support, she was forced to flee.”

Evelyn didn’t know how to respond to that. She merely watched the raven-haired woman and her dog for a few more minutes.

“I’ve always wanted a mabari,” Cullen said, breaking the companionable silence. Evelyn turned and looked at him.

“Can’t you just get one?” Cullen shook his head.

“I forgot that people outside Ferelden don’t know much about them,” he commented, “Mabari imprint on an owner. They choose who will be their masters, not the other way around. Their intelligence makes it impossible to force an imprint.”

“How smart are they?” Evelyn asked curiously.

“Almost as smart as a person, but smart enough not to speak like one,” he joked, “Once an owner knows their mabari well enough, they can have full conversations with them.”

Evelyn thought about that. She knew mabari were prized for their intelligence, but she didn’t realize just how sharp they were. Or how big, for that matter. Hawke’s dog towered over the younger children, looking like a draft horse next to them.

“This may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition,” Cullen pointed out, “Or related matters. To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”

Evelyn decided she should be brave. She faced down an ancient Darkspawn Magister, how could anything Cullen say affect her that much?

“Well, maybe we should spend more time together if you appreciate the distraction,” she said with a smile.

Cullen’s lips pulled upward – and pulled on the scar that dragged itself across his upper lip and cheek. She wasn’t sure why, but the way it did that always made her legs feel like jelly, and she suddenly found herself wishing he would smile more often.

“I would like that,” he said gingerly.

She was apparently wrong: Cullen could affect her that much. Evelyn felt like she was about to melt into a pool of emotions and confusion, and that they would have to scoop her up and put her in a vat so she could keep conducting Judgments.

They stared at each other for a considerable amount of time, each taking in the features of the other before Cullen suddenly blushed and looked down at the chessboard. He cleared his throat.

“We should… finish our game,” he stuttered slightly, “Right. My turn, then?”

She was going to win. She knew it. Cullen probably knew it. She moved her last rook into place and sat back.

“I believe this one is yours. Well played,” he congratulated her.

“You didn’t make it easy,” she pointed out playfully.

“All the more reason you should be proud of your victory,” the Commander said, “I know we’re both busy, but we should find the time to do this again.”

Evelyn was going to hold him to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for L'Enfant Sauvage (The Wild Child) by Gojira - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGHlZwMYO9g
> 
> I'm finally moving the Cullen/Evelyn thing along... slowly. Also, I wanted someone different to be the Warden contact (hence Nathaniel Howe), and I thought the implications of Hawke getting ahold of the Qunari spy list at the end of Mark of the Assassin would be an interesting thread to tug on. Lemme know what y'all think.
> 
> Also, I hated how the Hawke/Isabela romance pans out in Inquisition. In my opinion, part of the whole thing is that Isabela partly uses promiscuity to cover up past traumas she's had to endure and she's finally getting past them by the time Act 3 rolls around. The complete 180 during Inquisition is some Season 8 Jaime Lannister level bullshit in my opinion. So I changed it.


	24. When the Levee Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to Crestwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one, because we have nothing going on for a little bit, meaning I just work out all day.

A pounding at Erik’s door woke him from his sleep. He groggily rolled off his bed and stumbled toward the door, noting that the sun had not yet risen above the Frostbacks. He pulled open the door to his rooms to find Evelyn on the other side, dressed in her mage armor and her staff strapped to her back.

“Grab your gear. We’re leaving as soon as everyone’s ready.”

“Why?” he asked even as he was already moving to throw clothes on and grab his traveling equipment and weapons.

“We got word that Hawke’s Warden contact is already in Crestwood. She and Isabela left two hours ago,” she explained, “I’m taking everyone on this. I doubt the Warden will be the only thing we need to deal with in the region.”

 _Thank god,_ he thought. Skyhold was nice and all, and he enjoyed spending time with Leliana, but he was going a little stir crazy just sitting around all day. He didn’t want to say anything before, but it was a relief to know they were getting a move on.

Within twenty minutes Erik had everything ready. His rifle was clean; he saw to that the night prior. His swords were strapped to his belt, along with the remainder of the equipment on his battle belt from Earth. He flung himself down the stairs and out toward the courtyard, where he found that Isaac had already been prepped and saddled along with the rest of the Inner Circle’s mounts. Many of them looked groggy and slightly irked they had been woken on such short notice, though Dorian and Vivienne looked the most upset about it.

The advisors were present, as well, and Erik approached Leliana. She gave a small, tight smile, though her face was otherwise impassive.

“I must admit, a part of me wishes I were still in a position where I could venture out with the rest of you,” she said, “I’m not fond of letting those I care about go gallivanting around like this.”

Erik shrugged. “I doubt we’ll be gone long. A week or two, maybe. But I appreciate the concern.”

“Even so…” she trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words, “I’ve enjoyed the peace while it lasted.”

Erik pulled her into a hug, which she reciprocated immediately. “We’ll get more of it, I promise. It’s not like I’m going to die out there.”

“You say that but you never know,” the Spymaster murmured into his shoulder, “If you die, I don’t know if –”

“I won’t put that on you,” he cut her off, “You’ve lost too much already. I won’t let you go through losing someone else.”

She drew back and gripped his face between her gloved hands, studying his features for a moment. Then she planted a kiss on his lips. It wasn’t burning, nor was it soft, but it held a note of something deeply caring that Erik could have mistaken for love.

“Be safe,” she said before retreating back toward the keep. He watched her go with melancholy, and when she was out of sight he hoisted himself onto Isaac, giving the stallion a few pats on the neck once he was settled.

“I have no idea how you’re with her,” Varric commented, “That woman scares the shit out of me. I’d check my body for stab wounds every morning if I was with someone like that.”

“I agree,” Bull commented, “But it’s kinda hot. Plus, _redheads_.”

“I hate you both,” Erik murmured. He eyed Evelyn giving a lingering glance toward Cullen, but neither said more than a friendly goodbye to one another. Josephine was watching Erik with suspicion, her lips pursed and her eyes slightly narrowed.

“Everyone ready?” he heard Evelyn call, “Right, then. Let’s ride.”

And so they rode out of Skyhold and the Frostbacks, heading east. They rode mostly in silence, though the friendly banter between friends was noticeable. On the second night of riding, they sat around the campfire as Bull fed his massive nuggalope slices of a pear.

“So, Erik,” the one-eyed mercenary began, “You promised we’d share war stories when we got out of that shitshow. Feel okay sharing it with everyone?”

Erik saw nothing wrong with the idea, though he had to think long and hard about what he could share. A lot of his stories involved explosions, close air support, and shenanigans that definitely should not have happened in a war zone. But there were a few that would make sense with what they understood about his world.

“My team and I were in Nigeria on my second deployment, in the state of Borno. Nigeria had been a hotbed of war for years before we’d gotten ourselves involved,” he explained, “It’s a hellhole of violence, and Borno is the center of a terrorist group called Boko Haram. We were flying in on a Chinook, which is a type of helicopter.”

“You’ll have to explain this ‘helicopter’ to us, darling,” Vivienne interjected, “None of us know what that contraption is.”

Oh. Right. “A helicopter is a flying machine with rotating blades that keep it in the air. It can hover in midair, so it’s perfect for insertion and extraction from pretty much anywhere. Anyways, my entire team was sitting in the belly of the Chinook, about to land a few kilometers away from a compound where a high-value target was supposed to be. We were told to apprehend him alive if possible, dead if the resistance was too high at the compound.

“So we’re flying in during the dead of night, and the Chinook takes an RPG in the side, which is an explosive projectile. Now Chinooks are pretty sturdy, so the RPG didn’t do much to it. But the pilot informs us that the landing zone is too hot, and he can’t land there. So we tell him to open the back ramp and we’ll just jump out.”

“How high up were you?” Dorian asked, seemingly more enthralled than the rest of the party.

Erik thought about the drop they attempted. “Probably twenty or twenty-five feet above the ground. There was a river right below us, so we were going to lay down some covering fire and just send it into the water. Problem is, as soon as we opened the ramp, we started taking fire with weapons like mine. It was me and my buddy Isaac on the ramp at first, and we were dropping those assholes like it was going out of style. Isaac had a MK48 as his primary weapon, which is bigger than my weapon and shot way bigger bullets, way faster. He was just turning Boko Haram into Swiss cheese. I was taking dudes out, but nowhere as fast as he was.”

“You told me this one,” Evelyn realized, scratching the nose of her horse as she did so, “You got shot, didn’t you?”

Erik nodded, tugging on his shirt’s collar to reveal the scar on the meaty part of his left shoulder to the Inner Circle. “Some dick got a lucky shot in and hit me in the shoulder. I knew I’d been shot, but I wasn’t bleeding too bad since it didn’t hit any arteries, and I told our medics that I was just going to tough it out and keep going since it wasn’t too bad.”

“You got shot with one of those things and ignored it?” Blackwall asked, nodding toward Erik’s rifle. Erik nodded in assent.

“I got shot, then once everyone else was off the bird, Isaac and I jumped out of the Chinook and fell twenty-five feet into the river. Our team regrouped, we got a foothold in the region, and killed every enemy combatant in the region.”

“How many of the bastards were there?” Sera asked. Erik thought again for a moment.

“Probably about a hundred and fifty. The idiots thought it’d be a good idea to group themselves together in a good-sized cluster about four hundred meters from us, and our junior weapons guy, Austin, whipped out the Carl Gustav and blew them all up.”

Bull let out a low whistle. “Damn. He killed that many with a single shot?”

“The round was explosive,” Erik explained, “Anyways, once everyone was dead or running for their lives, Tyrone, one of the medics on the team, came over, took the bullet out of my arm, stitched me up, and we walked three kilometers to the compound and apprehended the HVT. We called for the helo, got picked up, went back to base, and turned him over to the CIA to get interrogated.”

“I’m still trying to reconcile the fact that you fell twenty-five feet into a battle,” Solas murmured. Dorian nodded his agreement, his eyes still wide with awe.

He paused and was lost in thought and sorrow for a long moment before he concluded his story. “Isaac, the guy on the ramp with me, got killed three weeks later. He was my best friend, and I had to carry his body to the helicopter. When we went back home I went over to his widow’s house and tried to comfort her. I broke down in her living room. Cried my eyes out for hours. Maria was the one that ended up comforting me.”

There were a couple of minutes of silence that followed the conclusion to his story, and he wordlessly took the alcohol-filled skin from Sera. He took a few hearty gulps of the burning substance before handing it back with a wordless thanks.

“You named your horse after him,” Cassandra realized, slightly teary-eyed, “The friend you lost.”

Erik nodded. “Isaac was the first friend I made on the team. He mentored me when I got there. I have his name with me wherever I go,” he explained, holding up the black metal bracelet with the names of everyone they’d lost while he was on his team. It wasn’t a long list, but every name hurt all the same. He’d hoped he’d never have to get one of those bracelets.

“Hell, I’ll pour one out to that,” Bull’s bass-filled voice resonated as he held out the drinking mug he took wherever he went, “To Isaac, and to everyone we lost.” Erik took the drink Varric offered and clinked it off Bull’s, downing it quickly.

“Alright, Bull, I told you mine, now you tell yours,” Erik grinned.

“Ah, fuck, alright. Let me think,” Bull grumbled. He tilted his head toward the two glowing moons as he pondered what to share, then his eye lit up and he smiled. Everyone leaned in slightly to hear Bull’s tale.

“Alright, well you probably already know I was in Seheron. I’ll never forget how Gatt got his name. We were hunting a Magister that was trafficking slaves back to Minrathous when the Fog Warriors showed up. Let me tell you, you never want to run into Fog Warriors…”

* * *

They rode into Crestwood in the dead of night two days later, and Evelyn was soaked. Everyone was soaked, and no one seemed happy about it. The air was filled with a mist so thick it was pretty much rain. Sera had the sniffles, and all the mages had resorted to holding small bits of fire in their hands to stave off the biting, freezing mist. Scout Harding was waiting for them, looking no better than the Inner Circle.

"We've got trouble ahead," she greeted.

"I'm sure it's nothing the Inquisition can't handle,” Evelyn said confidently, trying her damn best to keep a positive outlook in the atrocious conditions.

Harding let out a laugh and a grin slide across her face, her button nose scrunching up slightly. "Careful, Your Worship. That optimism might be catching."

Evelyn laughed and became serious. “Is it really that bad?”

She didn’t respond, instead simply pointing to the lake. At its center, an eerie green glow was visible, with clouds of vapor rising from it. Clearly a rift.

“Ah, fuck,” Erik sighed with false cheer, “I forgot about that.”

"Crestwood was the site of a flood ten years ago during the Blight,” Harding explained, “It's not the only rift in the area, but after it appeared, corpses started walking out of the lake. You'll have to fight through them to get to the cave where Ser Hawke's Grey Warden friend is hiding."

“Is it safe for you and your scouts here? We can send a few platoons your way, if you need it,” Evelyn offered.

Harding shrugged. "We've had a few shamblers, but most head toward the village below. Maybe someone in Crestwood can tell you how to get to the rift in the lake. Maker knows they'll want help. Good luck, and please be safe."

Evelyn sent a raven to Skyhold requesting a few units that weren’t squeamish with undead, and they headed into Crestwood. Her companions threw around a few ideas on how to get into the lake until they ran into a group of undead attacking two Grey Wardens and a common woman. The eleven of them immediately leaped into action and took out the undead as the Wardens helped the woman to her feet.

"I'd go back to the village, miss. These roads aren't safe,” one of the two said. She nodded in thanks and scurried off.

They bowed to Evelyn. "The Grey Wardens thank you for your aid, Inquisitor." She looked at her companions. Did everyone know who she was? Sera gestured at her left hand, and Evelyn glanced down to find the Anchor glowing slightly through her glove. That made more sense.

Blackwall was eyeing the other Wardens suspiciously. "What are you doing in Crestwood?" she asked.

"Looking for another Warden. Warden-Constable Howe of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. He's wanted for questioning."

The other man’s face twisted. "If you see him, I'd keep your distance."

“Hmm. What can you tell us about this rogue Warden?” Bull asked.

"Warden-Commander Clarel ordered his capture. It’s not necessarily her place, but with the majority of the Fereldan Grey Wardens’ disappearance, the Orlesian chapter of the Order has essentially taken guard of both Orlais _and_ Ferelden. I can say no more than that."

The Warden sighed. "I hope Howe comes with us peacefully. I trained under him and the Hero of Ferelden for a time before being transferred to Orlais. He’s a good man, I’m sure of that."

“Will you stay and fight undead?” Evelyn pressed.

The two men actually looked sorrowful. “I wish we could, but our orders forbid it, sadly. Crestwood was but a detour.”

The other Warden spoke. "If the Inquisition can help, I beg you to do what you can. The villagers have already lost too many." She nodded in agreement and they were on their way.

Evelyn dropped back to Blackwall. “Thoughts?”

He sighed. “I didn’t know either of those men, nor do I know the Warden they’re after beyond his name and reputation. It… doesn’t seem right, not helping the village. But orders are orders, I suppose.”

"None of those Wardens mentioned a new leader. I don't think they're part of Corypheus's plot to seize the Order," she noted.

“They stay by oaths sworn in blood. Not theirs, then their own. They’re true,” Cole said cryptically. She took that as a good sign.

“I hope Hawke’s Warden friend has answers for us,” Evelyn mumbled.

“We should split up,” Erik suggested, “Two teams. Evelyn, you take one, I’ll take the other. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

She thought about her brother’s proposal for a moment. It made sense. There was more to do here than just find Howe and Hawke, and she didn’t want to leave that rift in the lake open while she waltzed off to find their Warden contact.

“We’ll go get more information in the village first,” Evelyn decided, “After that, we’ll decide who goes where. If we find out how to get to the rift, that’s the top priority.”

After picking up a few people that wanted to help the Inquisition, they made our way to the mayor. Erik and Bull, the two largest people in the group by far, actually had to convince and threaten the man to convince him to help, but eventually, he gave them the information they desperately needed. There was a fortress not far from the village called Caer Bronach that held the drainage for the dam. If they could get the bandit company that had plagued the region out of the fortress, they could release the valve and drain the lake.

“Erik, take Bull, Dorian, Sera, and Blackwall to go clear the fortress,” Evelyn ordered, “I’ll take my team and move for the lake region. Once you get the dam controls working we’ll clear out the rift. Meet us in the drained region once you’re done.” Erik nodded his agreement at her orders and bucked his head to the side, striding off in the direction the mayor had given for the fortress. Evelyn turned toward her group and eyed them.

“Let’s go. They have some seriously heavy hitters with them; I doubt those bandits will stand much of a chance.”

* * *

Sure, there were probably forty or so people inside the fortress, but they were probably a bunch of booger-eaters that barely knew which way to hold a sword. They, on the other hand, were the best Thedas and Earth had to offer.

"Gate open, no patrols," The Iron Bull murmured as he analyzed the keep, "Risky, but we could rush it." Erik smiled wickedly and nodded.

“Are you meatheads seriously going to rush the front gate without even considering other options?” Dorian drawled.

“Sometimes, Dorian, the best option is the simplest one,” Erik said, “Besides, haven’t you ever heard the legend of Leeroy Jenkins?”

Dorian blinked in confusion at Erik’s off-color comment. “Who in the Maker’s name is –”

“Time’s up, let’s do this.” Erik turned with Bull and rushed forward with slight protests from the rest of our group. The two men threw their collective weight against the doors, bashing them in.

Erik decided to forego his rifle for the majority of Crestwood for two reasons. Firstly, he didn’t want to use too much ammunition if Dagna couldn’t figure out how to produce more whenever she showed up. Second, swinging a sword around was _fun_. His team hacked and slashed and burned and shot their way through the fortress, killing anything with a weapon. Erik was genuinely enjoying himself, despite the fact that they were carving a wake of chaos and death as they flung themselves through the fort. The Inner Circle was fighting as a cohesive unit, now. There were no unknowns with them, and they knew each others’ boundaries. It flowed smoothly. The only one that gave them trouble was their leader, a hulking man with a gigantic maul; he simply did not want to die, though Blackwall remedied that eventually.

“Mine,” Bull grunted as he grabbed the dead chief’s maul, “Ten minutes! New record for me when it comes to something like this.”

Erik hoisted the Inquisition banner on the flagpole and an hour later their forces in the area had moved in to secure the keep. Charter took command of the keep, and as soon as she entered she gestured for him to follow into a secluded room.

“Your acquisition of that list has already paid dividends beyond what we’ve anticipated,” Charter informed him once they were alone, “We’ve been able to capture seven Qunari agents throughout the Inquisition ranks already. Once they’re all confirmed to be spies and our own numbers are clear of double agents, we’ll move on to Ferelden. Orlais will have to wait until the civil war is over, and we’ll need more influence before we can fetter out the ones further north.”

Erik nodded. “I’m glad we’ve got some use out of the list. I got blackmailed by a mabari to get it.”

Charter let out an airy laugh. “I heard. I would make fun of you, but we do what we need to do, I suppose. Just wanted to let you know what's happening with the list; I’ll let you get back to it.” Erik gave the elven woman a small smile and regrouped with his team.

The dam controls were rusty, and it took Blackwall, Iron Bull, and himself working in tandem to move it; even with their combined strength, it was a struggle. Eventually, however, they got it open and Erik heard the telltale sound of thousands of gallons of rushing water.

They went back outside and Erik sent a message to Leliana asking her to clear the Inquisition’s indefinite occupation of the abandoned fort with Alistair, then they discussed their plan of action. It would take some time for the lake to drain fully; the five of them collectively decided to rest for a couple of hours before they moved to meet Evelyn’s team.

* * *

Evelyn watched the lake slowly drain in the moonlit night, and she saw the entrance they would have to take: an abandoned mineshaft along the new coastline. She gave an involuntary shudder as she remembered her last experience with a mine.

“Do we really have to go down there?” Varric groaned in a childish way. Evelyn turned toward him, a single eyebrow raised.

“I thought dwarves liked being underground,” Evelyn noted.

“Have you even read _Tale of the Champion_? Underground spots and I don’t get along.”

Cassandra let out another grunt. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it?”

He threw his hands up. “The more I stay pessimistic, the more I’m pleasantly surprised when things go our way.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to find the rift,” Solas said, completely ignoring the banter between the Seeker and the rogue, “The demons the rift is letting through the Veil will lead us straight to it.”

Solas was right. It didn’t take long to find the rift and close it, though they were all surprised to find extensive dwarven ruins in the mine. Evelyn made a note to send an expeditionary team to the ruins once the region was stable. Once the task was done, they ascended from the caves and met up with Erik’s team.

“Well, it looks like your half of the job went well,” Dorian noted in greeting.

Evelyn gave a nod. “I take it you didn’t have much trouble at Caer Bronach?”

“Nah, just a couple dozen idiots who thought they were hot stuff. We proved them otherwise. Our forces in the area occupied it a couple of hours ago.”

“Good. It’ll be an effective springboard for –”

Evelyn was cut off by the sound of a woman shouting at something. It was slightly warbly and not-altogether natural, but it was a woman nonetheless. They all followed the sound until they found a spirit floating in the ruins of a house, shouting at a pile of rocks.

The spirit noticed their presence and turned toward Evelyn. “You. You there! I order you to tell me why nothing here heeds my commands.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow and turned to her equally befuddled companions.

“Maybe… you could give it some guidance, Cole?” she offered.

“Maybe,” he agreed, “My name is –”

The spirit let out a grunting noise worthy of Cassandra, cutting the spirit boy off. “Compassion. Did I ask your name?”

Cole dropped his head slightly. “Sorry.”

The spirit turned its head toward Erik next. “Will. Why does nothing here obey me? Answer me!”

Erik raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “My name is Erik, Command. Not Will.” If the spirit had eyes, it would certainly be rolling them.

“Of _course_ you two have given yourselves names. You’ve gone native. At least you remember what type of spirit I am. No matter, tell me why nothing changes!”

“This realm follows different rules from the Fade’s,” Solas interjected, “Will alone cannot overcome what you see.”

“Well that explains why _that_ one,” she pointed toward Erik, “Can’t change anything, either.”

Evelyn was confused by this entire encounter. Did Command think Erik was a spirit of will? And why exactly did it think that? She recalled Cole’s comments a couple of weeks back, and those combined with this spirit’s odd comments made her uneasy.

“What’s so distressing about the physical world?” Evelyn asked.

“It _ignores_ me!” the spirit cried in frustration, “I order the rocks to part, but they do not. I order the sky to close, and it stays still. I don’t know how you mortals stand it.”

“If you hate it here so much, why haven’t you gone back to the Fade?” Erik asked.

“I will not be denied. I refuse to leave until something obeys my orders,” it explained.

Evelyn let out a sigh. They couldn’t just leave it here, and Evelyn didn’t feel in the mood of killing a benign spirit.

“I feel compelled to help you, then,” she almost groaned.

“Excellent! I have only one command,” the spirit declared, “A creature made of rage chased me across the lake and then went underground. Kill it.”

Evelyn blinked. “The rage demon in the caves? We killed it already?” The spirit let out a sigh of relief.

“Then it appears I’m not so powerless in this realm after all if I influenced you so. As my sovereignty is respected, I can depart this unchanging _nightmare_. Good day.” And the spirit blinked out of existence as it returned to the Fade. Everyone was silent for several minutes, looking at each other in confusion over the bizarre encounter they’d just had. Erik broke the silence.

“Solas? Am I a spirit?”

* * *

Solas determined that he was not, in fact, a spirit. Nor was he possessed by one. Which was a relief to him. But it still did nothing to quiet the little voice in the back of his head that maybe, just maybe, the ancient Elvhen god was wrong. It was a very disturbing thought, and one he decided he did not want to think about. It wasn’t too difficult, either, because as soon as they got back to Crestwood Village and went to inform the mayor that the rift was closed and the threat of the undead was gone, they discovered that the man had already bailed. Only a note was left in his stead:

_Inquisitor:_

_It was not darkspawn that opened the dam and flooded Old Crestwood ten years ago. I did, in secret, the night they attacked. The undead you have been fighting are people I killed with my own hands._

_We'd taken in refugees from the Blight. Many were ill. We moved the sick to the lower part of Crestwood, and the refugees into the caves, to stop the disease from spreading. It didn't work. One confessed he'd seen blight sickness before. It was always fatal. When the darkspawn attacked, I knew the only way the village would survive is if the blight-sick drowned with the monsters. I cannot bear the sight of Old Crestwood now that the water is gone. I cannot stay._

_I'm sorry._

_Mayor Gregory Dedrick_

Evelyn folded the paper in disgust. “Sweet Maker.”

“Is something wrong, darling?” Vivienne asked.

“The mayor was the one who flooded the town during the Blight to prevent the sickness from spreading,” she explained, disgust dripping from her voice, “He says he can’t bear the sight of seeing Old Crestwood, so he’s fled.”

“We’ll need to find him,” Cassandra said, horrified.

“I agree.” Evelyn was fuming, though Erik partly agreed with the mayor. There was no cure for the Blight beyond becoming a Grey Warden, and the only Archdemon blood in Ferelden at the time was locked up in Denerim. They spoke no more on the matter.

As they moved out to find Hawke and the smuggler cave where Howe was hiding, they heard the leathery flapping of wings from behind them. Everyone instinctively dove into the bushes and behind rocks, and Erik spotted the dragon for the region, flying regally above them and completely ignoring the puny things that scuttled about beneath its wingspan. Erik looked at Evelyn and grinned, and she instinctively knew what he was proposing before he even said anything.

“No.”

“Come on, Evelyn, please?” Erik begged. It was one thing he wanted to cross off his bucket list now that he’d been straight up isekai’d to a fantasy world.

“No. Absolutely not,” she snapped, her lips pursed into a thin line.

“Think of it as practice for Corypheus’s dragon, when we inevitably have to kill it,” Erik tried to explain. Evelyn closed her eyes in slight disgust and resignation, taking long, deep breaths.

“Fine. But if you die I’m not explaining to Leliana that we were just ‘practicing for the Archdemon’, you rock eater.”

“Yes!” Erik turned to the Qunari in the group, “Hey Bull?”

“What’s up?”

“Wanna go dragon hunting?” Erik had never seen his eye light up so quickly in glee and possible arousal.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” the hulking man laughed, “Let’s go kill ourselves a dragon.”

So they followed its flight path to its den. As they scouted it out, Erik noted that the younglings were almost all to the age where they would have to leave their mother’s care.

“Dragons are extremely territorial, and high dragons make no exception for their offspring,” Dorian explained, “She’ll probably kill all of them if she doesn’t die first. This entire region is her territory.”

Okay, so this was just the natural order of things. Giant flying lizard grows up, has offspring. Giant flying lizard becomes a threat to the local monkeys running around at about the same time as the offspring is about to leave. Giant flying lizard gets killed by said monkeys, and one of the young takes over while the rest find another place to roost. He felt less bad about killing it, but it was still an endangered species. This wasn’t a video game, and there was no achievement for killing as many high dragons as possible; the only thing one got from such an act was notoriety. Erik promised himself they’d just go after one. Maybe two if another went after them, first.

Still, he totally wanted to fight a dragon, for no other reason than fighting a dragon was fucking metal as hell.

“We done scouting?” Bull whispered loudly. They nodded at him, and he could have heard Evelyn sigh something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Maker give me the strength to put up with these imbecile men’. He took offense to that. Fighting a dragon was totally metal. Who wouldn’t want to fight a dragon?

“Oi, Cass, your family hunts dragons,” Sera pointed out, “Any advice?”

Cassandra’s lips were pursed in thought as she lay on her belly to Erik’s left, watching the dragon’s patterns in analytical silence.

“Hit it until it dies, and do not let it eat you. Or claw you. Or breathe at you,” she paused, “In fact, it’s best for most people to generally avoid dragons altogether.”

“Good thing we aren’t most people,” Bull grunted as he threw himself upright and drew his shiny new maul. Erik propped himself up on his knees right next to the kossith and adjusted his Peltors before aiming down the sights of his rifle.

“On my signal,” Erik murmured.

“Right, but what will be your –”

Dorian never got to finish his sentence, because Erik put a bullet in the dragon with a loud _crack._ He was aiming for a vital part of the neck, but all it seemed to do was piss the dragon off. Erik silently cursed himself. He knew he should have built this rifle in .458 SOCOM or .50 Beowulf.

Bull ran in shortly after he fired his round off, screaming like an absolute madman and winding up for a punishing blow to the lizard’s jaw. Erik cinched the rifle to his back and drew his blades, rushing in with the rest of his friends and allies.

The next five minutes were absolute, utter chaos. The dragon burped lightning – actual lightning – at them while they loosed crossbow bolts and arrows into its hide and struck it again and again with magic. It swiped at them as they slashed away with their blades, and it bit at them while they darted around it. Erik drew his sword and dagger along its underbelly once, twice, three times, finding chinks in its nearly impenetrable scales each time. He eyed Evelyn as she drew a barrier up just in time for the beast to spew a bolt of lightning in her direction; Solas healed a slightly battered Iron Bull as Cassandra and Cole alternated taking swings at its hindquarters. Sera landed a lucky shot and put an arrow in its left nostril, and it reared back in pain, allowing Blackwall free access to one of its tendons as he hacked away at a front leg.

Erik dodged out of the way as the beast came back down on all fours, and he drew his blades back up once more to fend off its jaws. Then, on his left arm, he felt a tugging sensation, then a tearing one. He glanced down and noticed that the beast had cut a four or five-inch gash into his left bicep, digging all the way past flesh and muscle and revealing the pearly white bone beneath. Adrenaline and shock staved off the pain for a few moments and allowed him to analyze the situation. His bicep was still attached, as was his arm, since he could still move his shoulder, but he was going to bleed out if he didn’t act fast. He backed away from the thrashing beast and reached for his belt, unzipping the first aid kit he always kept on it. The single tourniquet within was for emergencies only, and not really for himself if he were in full combat gear back home, but since he was the only one seriously injured he couldn’t see a reason not to use it.

Erik threw himself down on a boulder not far from Vivienne, who stopped her staff’s movement momentarily and glanced down at his wound.

“My dear, let me see to that,” she offered through panting breaths, “We don’t need you losing an arm.”

Erik had completed placing the tourniquet high and tight on his arm by the time she had finished talking and was busy twisting the windlass until it was physically painful to have on. He tried forcing his fingers under the strap and found he couldn’t get purchase, which was good.

“I’ll be fine,” Erik grunted as he pulled his rifle out and began to clamber to higher ground, “This thing will keep me around. Keep throwing magic at that thing so someone doesn’t actually get killed.”

Vivienne didn’t argue with his logic and kept freezing the dragon’s claws to the soil for the warriors and for Cole to slash at. Erik lay prone, placed his rifle on a rocky outcropping, and sighted in. He could fire with one hand. He’d done it countless times. He fired after a calming exhale, hitting just below where his first round had lodged itself. The dragon screamed in pain and shot a bolt of lightning at him. He dropped completely flat, dragging his weapon with him as he felt the air crackle with ozone and power just above his head. It made his hair stand on end and it dumped so much adrenaline into his veins he thought his heart would explode. But it didn’t, and once the burst of lightning was gone, he righted himself and sighted right back in on the beast, this time on the joint where its left wing met its torso. That did it. He certainly didn’t break any bones; the monster was probably fifteen tons of electric death, so its bones wouldn’t break easily. But he watched as the wing fluttered suddenly as the round met flesh, and the dragon gave an ear-piercing shriek of pain and it dropped to the ground.

It was all the window the three warriors in the party needed. They hacked and slashed at is neck and head, creating more and more lacerations until Cassandra finally drove her sword into its neck and stilled the beast. It let out a horrible, angry screaming sound, drawing Erik out of his battle haze and back into reality. The wound on his arm screamed in agony, and he let out a roar of pain to mirror the dragon’s.

“Erik!” Evelyn was rushing over even as he was screaming, followed by Solas and Dorian. Vivienne was already at his side investigating the wound.

“It’s not a clean cut,” Vivienne murmured, “That thing on your arm saved you from losing much blood, but it tore your bicep in three places. This will hurt to heal, even with magic.”

Erik grunted as he drew himself more upright. “Varric, do me a favor and give me some booze.” He knew alcohol thinned the blood, but he didn’t really give a shit right then. A little wasn’t going to kill him, and he needed something to numb the pain he was feeling right then. The dwarf appeared and handed him his alcohol skin, and Erik set his rifle aside, placing it on safe as he did so. He took two deep gulps of the amber-colored whiskey inside and took a deep breath.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready,” he sighed. Vivienne began to seal the wound.

It was unlike any pain he’d felt before. He could feel every fiber of his bicep sealing itself back up one by one, along with the veins and arteries that had been severed. It was so excruciating that it went all the way to his teeth and behind his eyes. It took his breath away so he didn’t even have the opportunity to scream. All he could do was sit there, eyes bulged, as Vivienne silently worked to close his arm back up.

She pulled away after a few moments, and the pain was gone, but the wound was still half-open. “That is all I can do. The fight took quite a bit out of me, I’m afraid. One of you take over.”

Solas was next, kneeling down and placing his long, nimble fingers on Erik’s arm. And then the pain started all over again, and Erik almost passed out. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the wound was sealed, and Erik lay on the rocks and breathed a sigh of relief.

“There will be a scar,” Solas said as he wiped small beads of sweat from his egg head, “And you will need to be careful with yourself for the next two weeks, possibly more, or you will risk re-tearing it.”

“I’ll have him sent home with Harding’s group tomorrow,” Evelyn spoke through gritted teeth.

He would be lying if he said he was happy that he was being sent back, but at least he wasn't going to miss his first Thedosian holiday.

His sister let out a grunt of frustration.“You fucking idiot, Erik.”

“Uh, we just killed a fucking dragon. A torn bicep that got healed by magic? Worth it,” Erik laughed as he began to gently untwist the windlass on the tourniquet, slowly easing the blood back into his arm, causing it to tingle with pinpricks.

Evelyn was not pleased. “Do you know how close you were to dying? You moved your arm at the last second. I saw you. Had your it not been there, that claw would have pierced your heart.”

Bull lumbered back over to the dragon and grabbed one of its claws – the one that had got him, Erik realized – and tugged, once, twice, three times, and then it was free. He strode back to where Erik was sitting and tossed the absolutely massive talon in his lap.

“Keep this. It’ll remind you that you survived a dragon, then killed it,” Bull laughed. It seemed to ease the tension in the group.

“Technically, Cassandra gets credit for the kill,” he pointed out, “But you’re right. I’m keeping this.”

“I hope you realize that while you may have survived the dragon, your darling Spymaster may kill you instead,” Dorian pointed out.

Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. Dorian was right. Leliana was totally going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for When the Levee Breaks, originally by Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie, but made famous by Led Zeppelin - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbrjRKB586s


	25. Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has a breakdown. Evelyn meets their Warden contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one, but I wanted to get it out. We're ramping back up here pretty soon, and I want to get it out before I'm bebopping around the desert again.
> 
> Bioware/EA owns the IP, I'm just here so I won't get fined.

Evelyn was still upset with Erik. The bastard had the gall to suggest going after the dragon in the first place, then had the gall to get hurt in the process of bringing it down. Her brother, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by his injury and had ensured that the scouts he was returning to Skyhold with would bring the dragon back with them so they could use it for the Inquisition.

“Killing something like this for sport… it’s a waste,” he’d said with a heavy voice. She had to admit, he had a point. The bones were stronger than nearly any metal in Thedas, and its scales were nearly as tough. Its more fleshy parts could be used for several different magical and alchemical applications, as well.

The rest of the Inner Circle had noticed Evelyn’s simmering anger and had avoided deep conversation until well after Erik and the dragon corpse had been secured by scouts, who had brought half a dozen draft horses, a nuggalope, and two dracolisks all pulling a gigantic cart to bring the dragon back to Skyhold. The only person in the Inner Circle that either didn’t pick up on Evelyn’s frustration or, more likely, didn’t care, was Bull. He was like a child on his name day, simply giddy over the fact that they’d killed a dragon. Evelyn rolled her eyes at Bull’s antics and Sera’s enabling of said antics and moved on, eager to find Howe and Hawke.

They found the hideout three hours later: an old smuggler’s cave, freshly killed bodies strewn everywhere. Hawke waited for them at the entrance with Isabela and their mabari standing next to her. The hound noticed them first; its hackles raised and it bared its teeth threateningly before its master put a calming hand on the back of the dog’s head.

"We’ve been waiting for them, Barkspawn. It’s okay,” she paused and eyed Evelyn’s group, “Erik not with you lot?”

“We had a run-in with the local high dragon,” Evelyn explained, her frustration gone and replaced by exasperation, “We killed it, but Erik got injured in the process.”

“Well, what’s a dragon hunt without someone being maimed?” Hawke darkly joked. Isabela let out a huff and gave a glance at her nails as she leaned on the mouth of the cave.

“You weren’t saying that when I went down during our little spat with the dragon near the Bone Pit,” she drawled. Evelyn thought she saw Barkspawn roll his eyes.

"Well, yes, but I don't love the Champion of Andraste. I love _you_ ," Hawke pointed out.

“As much as I'd love to reminisce about our misadventures,” Varric rasped, “We’re here for business.”

“Right,” Hawke sighed, “Nathaniel’s just inside. But be warned, he’s a bit antsy.”

Evelyn apprehensively entered, looking around. The scraping of steel on leather struck her ear and she turned to find a man in an unassuming cloak, long dagger in hand, tip pointed at her. He was in his late thirties or perhaps early forties, of average height and a slim but powerful build, with black hair slightly gathered in a ponytail and a few days’ stubble on his cheeks and chin. His nose was long and hooked, and clearly broken once or twice, and his gray eyes were steely and intelligent. Hawke stepped forward hands up in a placating manner.

"It's just us. I brought the Inquisitor."

He nodded and sheathed his dagger. "My apologies, Inquisitor," the Warden said in a heavy Fereldan accent, "I am Warden Constable Nathaniel Howe, of the Ferelden Grey Wardens."

Evelyn nodded in greeting. "Hawke said you might be able to help us fight Corypheus?

“Ah, Corypheus," the Warden sighed. "I know little about the blighter, and that much only because of my seniority. Most Wardens have never heard of him.”

"You must know _something_ that can help us," Evelyn pressed.

“Easy now. I never said I didn’t,” he grinned. Evelyn gestured for him to continue, and Howe sighed and sat at a chair in the cave, gesturing for Evelyn to take the other.

"When Hawke killed Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest," Howe explained, "But an Archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and Aedan and I worried Corypheus might possess the same power."

“What made you think that?” Dorian asked with slight confusion.

“It was Aedan’s wife, Morrigan, who proposed it, actually,” the Warden-Constable admitted, “That witch is possibly the most knowledgeable person I’ve ever met. After our encounter with the Architect during the Darkspawn Civil War, we were worried about the ancient Magisters awakening from their tombs. When Hawke killed Corypheus in 9:35 and word reached us from her sister, Bethany, Morrigan proposed that the ancient Magisters may be able to regenerate much like an Archdemon not killed by a Grey Warden,” he paused and sighed, “It would appear the Witch of the Wilds was correct.”

“Hold on,” Evelyn held up her hand, “Who is the Architect? And the Darkspawn had a civil war?”

Howe searched her features for a moment and then glanced at Iron Bull. “I won’t say anything while a Ben-Hassrath agent is here. This is the kind of information that could spark an invasion.”

Bull held up his hands. “I get it. Neither of us wants an invasion. I’ll go pull guard outside.” He strode out of the cave, and Howe waited until he was out of earshot to continue.

“The Architect is the name one of the Magisters Sidereal has given himself in his life as a Darkspawn,” Howe admitted, “Aedan and I have concluded he was the High Priest of Urthemiel.”

“The Architect of the Works of Beauty,” Evelyn realized, “I assume the Fereldan Grey Wardens killed him when you encountered him?”

Howe shook his head. “The opposite, actually. We made a secret alliance with him.”

“You _what_?”

Howe laughed. “The Architect had developed a technique similar to the one we use for our Joining ritual. He was freeing Darkspawn from the song of the Old Gods that drives them to taint them into Archdemons. It caused a civil war within the Darkspawn. Aedan saw an ally within the ‘awakened’ Darkspawn, as they were called, and the Deep Roads have been quieter ever since.”

“Well, Varric, now we know why we didn’t encounter much resistance during our second venture down there,” Hawke said cheerily. Varric was slightly pale, his eyes wide.

Evelyn felt the same way the dwarven rogue looked as she mulled over the ramifications of that information for a long moment. She didn’t know enough about Darkspawn to have an educated opinion, but just the thought seemed… dangerous.

“I suspect that even if you killed him he would have regenerated,” Isabela pointed out, “Just like Corypheus did.”

“I suppose he may have,” Howe agreed, “Either way, with that information in mind and after Corypheus’s demise, Morrigan theorized that he may be able to regenerate like an Archdemon. While the rest of the Fereldan Order left on a key mission, Aedan entrusted me with investigating the possibility of such an ability. I uncovered clues but no proof. Then, around the time of the Conclave, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling."

"You didn't mention that in your letters," Hawke said, clearly concerned, "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

“The Calling?” Vivienne asked.

"The Calling is… difficult to explain to someone outside the Order. Suffice it to say that The Calling signals the end of a Warden's life. It is tied to the Taint and every Warden experiences it when their time nears an end. They go into the Deep Roads and take out as many Darkspawn as they can before succumbing to their wounds."

"But you said every Warden in Orlais is hearing The Calling. Do you think Corypheus is doing this?" Evelyn asked.

"Possibly," Howe admitted, "I believe it is tied to Corypheus, though I do not know if he does this intentionally or if it's simply a convenient coincidence."

"So... all the Wardens in Orlais think they're dying?" Hawke prodded, “I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. Can’t you just make more?”

"That’s not the point, Marian,” he snapped, “What would Thedas do if all the Wardens fell? There would be no one to fight the next Blight. It is our greatest fear. Well, most of ours."

“You said most of ours,” Evelyn noted after a moment. Howe worried his lower lip for a moment.

“There is reason to not fear the Calling for the Fereldan Grey Wardens. I can say no more than that. And I think Aedan’s greatest fear is losing his family, not the Calling. That blasted song is just another obstacle to him,” he smirked at his last statement.

"So, then the Wardens do something desperate," Hawke said, drawing the conversation back on track, "which of course is exactly what Corypheus would want."

"So, is this Calling real or is Corypheus somehow creating a false Calling?" Evelyn questioned, hoping for clarification.

"I don’t know, but the Wardens believe that this Calling is real, which is more enough," Howe explained, "They will act accordingly."

Evelyn frowned. "So you feel it too, then?"

"Yes, unfortunately," he sighed wearily, "It’s not loud for me. Just an irritating whisper in the back of my mind. Like a voice in the dark. We need to uncover what Corypheus has done and end it before the Orlesian Wardens do something stupid."

"Well, we certainly can't let all the Grey Wardens run off into the Deep Roads to die," Hawke declared.

"The last I spoke to her, Warden-Commander Clarel mentioned a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished," Howe explained, gesturing to a small table holding a map of southern Thedas. "When I protested the plan as insanity, the Orlesian chapter turned on me, and with none of my Fereldan brethren in Southern Thedas, I became a fugitive."

He pointed toward western Orlais, near the Abyssal Rift. "Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach. It’s an ancient Tevinter ritual tower. If we go there, hopefully we’ll find answers."

“How long do we have before this ritual?”

“A few months, at least, if not half a year,” Howe said.

Evelyn nodded. “Then we have time to prepare. We’ll ride for the Western Approach as soon as we can, but I have one of my key companions injured currently, and I need him if we’re going to ride across the continent. In the meantime, come to Skyhold and help us prepare.” He nodded and turned to leave the cave.

Evelyn turned to Blackwall. "You didn't tell me you were hearing this Calling Howe mentioned.”

"It's nothing," Blackwall said resolutely, crossing his arms. “I do not fear Corypheus's games."

"You're sure you're going to be okay?"

He nodded. "I'm here for the Inquisition, Trevelyan. Nothing will stop me from giving a hundred percent."

Evelyn searched his face for a moment, looking for any sort of indication he was lying. She found none. After a nod and a pat on his shoulder, they regrouped outside the cavern and prepared to finish their work in the region.

* * *

The six-day ride back to Skyhold was largely quiet, and Erik thanked his lucky stars for it. He didn’t want to say anything, but his arm hurt like hell. Every morning he woke up sore, and it would spasm in occasional bouts of pain on the road. The cold Fereldan winter didn’t help, and the frigid mountain air of the Frostbacks was even worse. When Skyhold was finally in sight Erik heaved a sigh of relief. The fortress was always temperate. It was probably magic, but whatever it was, his arm would hurt less once inside the castle walls.

The dragon carcass drew shocked murmurs and whispers as they rode through New Haven, as did the sight of the ‘Champion of Andraste’ with his arm in a sling, but neither Harding’s scouts nor Erik paid them much mind. What Erik did pay mind to, however, was the thought of the tongue-lashing he was about to receive from Leliana. It had been stressing him out for nearly a week, and Erik tried his damn hardest not to think about it. But that little voice in the back of his head kept telling him how screwed he was, and he kept listening to it whenever it piped up.

The feeling of dread only grew worse as they ascended the lift up the outermost guard tower, and it was almost deafening in his mind by the time he was riding across the bridge. Finally, he crossed the front gates and looked around briefly.

Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen were all waiting with shocked looks as he entered, the dead high dragon trailing behind him by a few feet. Cullen seemed more shocked at the dragon, as did Josephine, though after taking in the dragon, Leliana turned his gaze on him, her eyes widening briefly at his left arm.

“Uh… hi,” he greeted lamely before dismounting, “We killed a dragon.”

“I… I can see that,” Cullen said in shock, “May I ask why?”

“We figured it would be good practice for Corypheus’s pet,” Erik explained, “It went pretty well, all things considered.”

“And your arm?” Leliana asked quietly. The other two pairs of eyes trained themselves on his slung appendage, and he felt his face grow hot.

“It clawed my arm open. Vivienne and Solas healed me up, but they recommended a couple of weeks off before going back out.”

He watched the Spymaster’s face grow steely, and she turned around and strode off. The act was worse than the verbal berating he was anticipating. Josephine scowled at him and trailed off after her friend, and Erik heaved a weary sigh.

“Am I missing something?” Cullen asked, his eyes full of confusion.

“I promised her I’d be careful. I wasn’t. Now she’s mad at me.”

“Ah.” Both men grew silent after that, merely watching as the Inquisition carted the dragon off for it to be properly processed before decay set in. It was interesting that it hadn’t already, but Harding explained that not only are dragons resistant to the Blight, they’re resistant to _all_ disease, meaning it takes nearly a month for them to decay at all. Erik had made a note to ask someone about it later. Probably either Dagna or Solas.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” Cullen noted, “It looks like you’re in need of it.” Erik thanked him and headed for his chambers.

An hour later he found himself sitting on his bed reading Genitivi, though it was difficult for two reasons. Firstly, it was decidedly more difficult to read a book with only one hand when said book was sitting in one’s lap. Second, and more importantly, he could hear two distinct voices in the room next to his, one belonging to Josephine and the other to Leliana. He had been thinking about her cold shoulder since he’d returned to Skyhold, but he figured it’d be best to let her cool off before he tried speaking to her. It wasn’t that he was afraid of what would happen if he tried to talk to her. Definitely not.

Erik heard her door open and close, then after a few moments, it opened and closed once more. Five seconds later, a knock at his own door came, then it swung open. Josephine stepped in, her lips pursed in a thin line and her face full of frustration.

“I hope you know you’ve upset her deeply,” she began. Erik sighed and marked his place in his book before sitting up.

“I know,” he sighed, adjusting the sling slightly. They stared at each other for a few moments in silence. Josephine sat down and studied him intently.

“What are your intentions with Leliana?” she bluntly asked. Erik blinked and looked at her with more than a bit of surprise on his face.

“What?”

“She is like a sister to me. I will not stand to see her hurt,” the Antivan said, “Leliana is not of the age where she is looking for casual fun.”

“Yeah, well, neither am I,” he shot back defensively. He was honestly surprised that she even accused him of something like that. Did she really think so little of him?

“Then I’ll ask you again. What are your intentions with Leliana?”

“I don’t know, maybe a healthy, steady relationship?” Erik barked, “Maybe an equal I can trust implicitly?” Josephine blinked in shock at his vitriol, and Erik sighed wearily and continued.

“Being a soldier is hard, Josephine. I don’t think I’ve been truly happy in two or three years. I’ve killed more people than you probably personally know. I watched my best friend die. I wake up most nights with nightmares, I’ll get irrationally angry at things sometimes, and the sound of combat of any kind makes me switch into a killing mindset, and there’s nothing I can do to control it,” he ranted, “I’m your age and I have the joints of someone ten years older than someone in their late twenties. I have a piece of metal in my right thigh, and until it got healed by fucking _magic_ , my left knee was a permanent bother. I’m tired.

“And to make matters worse, back on Earth, I was gone for months at a time, and came back slightly more jaded and broken each time. That makes keeping any sort of relationship at all very difficult, romantic or not. I couldn’t relate to any of my friends from before my service because they hadn’t seen what I had seen. I’ve had one serious romantic relationship in the last ten years. It went on for two years, and I considered marrying the woman until I came back to find out she had broken my trust and cheated on me with my neighbor. Do you want to know what her explanation was when I confronted her?”

Josephine didn’t respond, only staring at him with wide eyes and a shocked look at his outburst.

“She said that it was too hard. Too hard to have me gone for so long and to come back a different man. So instead of telling me that, she completely ruined my sense of trust and my self-esteem by fucking my neighbor. I didn’t date anyone after that. I was just getting over it, too, when suddenly, I was tossed into a world I only thought was fiction. With no explanation! I’ve had to rebuild my entire life from the ground up, and I’ve had to earn the trust of everyone around me all over again.

“So here I am, in a world hundreds of years behind my own in terms of advancement, and I find a woman that I connect with. She’s beautiful, she’s smarter than I am, and to top it all off, she can relate to a lot of what I’ve been through, and she doesn’t judge me for being so fucked in the head. So to answer your question, Lady Montilyet, no, I’m not looking for casual fun. I’m looking for a companion that I can trust and relate to and build a life worth living with. Because the one I’m living right now isn’t really worth it if you ask me.”

He took a deep breath after his long-winded rant at the Ambassador, tears prickling at the edges of his vision. He didn’t really care, though. He was just so tired.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I shouldn’t have dumped that on you. I know you’re just looking out for your friend.”

She shook her head. “I understand. I don’t think I quite realized you were struggling with so many things. I shouldn’t have accused you of using Leliana,” she paused before continuing, “You really should speak to her, however. She’s worried. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.”

“What? Worrying over a man she’s known for four or five months?”

“No. I haven’t seen her care for anyone so deeply.”

Her words hit Erik like a freight train. He was fairly certain he forgot to breathe for a minute as he mulled over her statement. He was fairly certain Josephine noticed, too, because she looked at him with something akin to sympathy.

“Leliana cares very deeply for you, Erik. Even for the short time you’ve been with us. You two have an opportunity to be very happy together, and I would like nothing more than to see that. But you need to be honest with her,” the Antivan advised. Erik was silent for a moment, then stood and went to find the Spymaster.

  
  


She was sitting at her workstation, mulling over a report. Erik approached slowly and with apprehension, unsure what he would say to her. He knew she heard him approach, but didn’t look up or greet him.

“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked coolly. Erik deflated slightly at her dismissal and his shoulders slouched in exhaustion.

“I’m sorry, Leliana.” Her gaze rose from the report in front of her as he said that, her eyes steely and emotionless.

“You made me a promise, and you broke it. You should be sorry.”

He took the risk of sitting down next to her with a grunt at his aching joints and studied her features for a moment, mulling over what words he should say. What words he could say without breaking down in the rotunda.

“I know. I told you I would be careful, and I wasn’t,” Erik finally said, “I never am, and it came back to bite me this time.”

“And you think this makes everything better?” she scoffed.

“I’d be insane to think it would. But I just had a conversation with Josephine, and I think I need to say some things to you,” he took a deep breath.

“First of all, Josephine was worried I was playing with you. I’m not. I’m at the point in my life where I’m looking to settle down with someone, and if I’m going to be in Thedas for the remainder of my life, I want someone I can share that life with.”

“And you think that person is me?” she asked with suspicion.

Erik nodded. “I’m not a good person, Leliana. If you strip away all the sugarcoating, I just kill people for a living. And I’m very good at what I do. I like it on some level; you have to, if you’re going to make a career out of it. But it’s a double-edged sword. I don’t really have any other skills outside of violence. I’m good at diplomacy, but I’m not Josephine. Nor am I as skilled as you or Charter at espionage. I have to keep fighting because I have nothing else.”

“I know. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because if we’re going to be together, you need to accept that I’m going to be in danger every time I go out with Evelyn.” She blinked and drew her eyes away from his at his statement, and Erik felt his heart drop slightly.

“I know it’s hard. It’s why I was never really with anyone back on Earth. It happened exactly once, and I got cheated on,” he took a deep breath, “Things are different now. I don’t want to be alone in a world I’m not native to, and I’m ready to put down my weapon and walk away.”

She brought her eyes back to his and searched his face. “But you aren’t going to.”

“Not while everything is still hanging by a thread. I choose to believe I was brought here for a reason. I’m going to see this through. But when this is all over, I’m done. I can see myself leading a happy life with you, and that alone is enough for me to keep fighting to make sure we have that opportunity. But if you don’t think it’s worth it, let me know now, and we’ll end it.”

Leliana was silent for a very long time after he finished speaking, and every second made him feel worse and worse about his chances. He wasn’t lying to Josephine, he wasn’t a very happy person. The time he’d spent with the woman next to him were some of the few moments he’d actually felt happiness in years, and he doubted he’d be able to catch lightning in a bottle twice. So he waited with bated breath for the bard’s response.

“No, it’s worth it,” she finally said, “You’re asking a lot, and it’ll be hard to know you’re in danger, but it’s worth it to me if it means someone I can build a life with after all this is over.”

Erik let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and felt himself relax completely. The relief he felt was indescribable; he was simply happy his stunt with the dragon didn’t ruin things with the absolutely beautiful woman sitting next to him. He gently gripped her neck with his good hand and leaned in, planting a warm, soft kiss on her lips that she immediately melted into.

“Thank god,” he laughed when they finally broke their embrace, “Or the Maker. Whatever He’s called here.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow at his statement. “Have you become an Andrastian while I wasn’t looking?”

Erik shrugged. “I figure there’s something out there, and I refuse to believe a world populated with beings so similar to my own world doesn’t have the same creator,” he explained, “If that means I’m Andrastian, so be it.” The Orlesian let out a breathy laugh and gave a toothy grin that did funny things to his insides.

“I suppose I’ll have to start teaching you about the Chant if that’s the case,” she paused, “But not now. Right now, you’re going to tell me how you were stupid enough to come riding back with your arm in a sling.”

Erik let out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “It was easy. All I had to do was provoke a dragon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Love? by Strapping Young Lad - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mL9Aohgd79I
> 
> A note on the Fereldan Grey Wardens. It is explicitly said in Inquisition that every Warden in Orlais heard the Calling, but the Fereldan Order is missing, as well. I decided not to change this. The Fereldan Grey Wardens will not be at Adamant, and there will be a reason they're missing. Also, Nathaniel informing them that this was not the first Magister that's awakened was, I feel, something he would do if he were Hawke's contact.


	26. It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik talks to a pregnant woman. Satinalia goes down.

“Champion? Do I want to know what you’re doing?”

Erik looked up from his work to find Josephine staring at him curiously. He rolled his eyes and adjusted his left arm slightly in its sling.

“You’re the third person to ask me that, Josie,” he sighed, “First it was Harding, then Cullen, and now you. Why does everyone think I’m doing something suspicious?”

“Well if it isn’t nefarious, then I must ask what it is you’re making,” she said pointedly.

“It’s called a barbell, Josie,” he explained, “I found a nice, straight piece of ironwood, and I’m going to stick buckets filled with sand or metal on them and deadlift the bastard.”

“You’re going to use it to lift the dead?”

“No, I’m going to _deadlift_. It’s a strength exercise. I like picking heavy shit up and putting it back down.”

Josephine frowned in confusion. “Why not just exercise with the soldiers?” she asked.

“Because I’m the second biggest guy in the castle, besides Bull, and he doesn’t count because he’s a Qunari. And I don’t have my medic cycling me on steroids anymore, so I have to work twice as hard to keep my size.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “I’m still confused. What are ‘steroids’?”

He cut the last groove at the end of the bar, then stepped back and admired his handiwork for a short moment before hefting the dense wood upright.

“It’d take too long to explain fully. Basically it was a chemical that I used to put in my body to make me way stronger than I could be normally,” he elaborated.

“Would your normal strength not be enough for your job?” the Antivan asked, her eyes lingering over his form for a little longer than necessary.

“I mean, yeah, it was enough in theory, but when I was in full combat loadout I weighed almost three hundred pounds, and I wasn’t even the biggest guy on my team. I needed to be able to carry anyone that was injured without problems,” he paused, “Plus I wanted to be able to Terminator choke people.”

“I have no idea what that means,” she pointed out. Erik huffed an amused laugh.

“And I hope you never get an idea,” he murmured before throwing the pole on his shoulder and marching it up to his rooms.

He placed his newly-made weight equipment behind his desk and grunted in frustration. He knew he’d have to wait until his shoulder was less tender to really do anything strength-wise, but he was getting antsy. Even with the yoga he’d been doing to recover over the past few days, it wasn’t enough, so he had to find other ways to occupy his time.

Those other things normally either involved helping one of the advisors, bugging Leliana until she showed emotion, or secretly preparing Satinalia gifts for everyone. Josephine had explained while they were working on correspondence with Arl Teagan of Redcliffe that an exchange of gifts amongst friends and loved ones was customary for Satinalia, which was apparently also called Feastday. He felt relieved to have confirmation that Satinalia was a bit like Christmas, and he set himself to work preparing gifts for every member of the Inner Circle that night. He was almost done, too; he just had to get one for Blackwall and one for Cullen, though he wasn’t quite sure what to get either of the men.

A knock on his door drew him from his thoughts, and he realized he’d been zoned out on his new weight bar for several minutes. He sauntered over and pulled the door open to find a runner standing nervously before him.

“Champion, ser, Sister Nightingale is requesting your presence in the courtyard,” the woman nervously informed him.

“My name is Erik, first of all. You don’t have to call me Champion,” he told the young woman gently, “Secondly, did she tell you what she needed me for?”

“A Qunari woman has approached the Inquisition. She doesn’t speak Common, but she seems desperate.”

Erik raised an eyebrow at the odd development. “I’ll be right down.”

It wasn’t hard to find the Spymaster. She stood in the upper courtyard with Fudge in her arms and three scouts guarding a woman sitting nervously on a bench. He raised an eyebrow at the nug Leliana was cradling.

“I was just taking her to get some fresh air, don’t judge me,” she shot playfully before changing tones, “That was when one of my agents noticed this woman.”

“The runner said she doesn’t speak Common. Am I seriously the only Arabi – Qunlat speaker in the Inquisition?” he asked.

Leliana nodded. “The only fluent one, as far as I know, without Bull here. I’d like you to speak to her and find out what she wants.”

Erik sighed and ran his free hand through his hair, which he absently noted was almost longer than Leliana’s bobbed cut. He thought for a moment before responding to the bard’s request.

“You realize I’m not even positive that Arabic is Qunlat, right? I could try speaking to her and it could be gibberish.”

Leliana gave him a dry look. “Would it hurt to try?”

He supposed she was right. He turned his gaze to the Qunari woman. Despite her apprehension and tense fear, she was beautiful in an alien way. Her skin was a pale grey, almost the color of fine silver. Her horns jutted back before twisting and curling slightly at the ends, and her hair was blacker than midnight. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue and darted anxiously between everyone present at random intervals. Erik noted that her hands rested on a swollen belly, and he realized that the woman was pregnant. With the last fact in mind, he approached the horned woman.

“ _My colleagues asked that I speak with you_ ,” he tried in Arabic, “ _Can you understand me?_ ” He knew the instant her eyes widened in shock that she absolutely could, and he received confirmation that spoken Arabic also corresponded with the Qunari language.

“ _You speak Qunlat?_ ” she asked in shock, _“Thank the heavens above. I was starting to worry that no one here spoke it.”_

“ _I’m one of two speakers in the Inquisition,”_ he confirmed gently before gesturing to the open spot beside the huge woman, _“Do you mind if I sit?”_

She nodded apprehensively and he sat beside her slowly, like one would in order to avoid scaring a skittish doe.

“ _What brings you to us?_ ” he asked.

“ _I left the Qun,”_ she explained, “ _Not long ago. I have nowhere else to turn._ ”

Erik thought for a moment about why she would become Tal-Vashoth. A number of possibilities came to mind, but one stuck out above the others.

“ _Did it have anything to do with that?_ ” he nodded toward her stomach. The Tal-Vashoth woman nodded, tears prickling at the edges of her eyes.

“ _I was a Tamassran,_ ” she explained, “ _It is – it was my job to educate the young and to provide counsel and relief to those in need. Sometimes that includes… sexual relief.”_

“ _I know. I take it that baby of yours was a result of said relief?”_

The Tamassran nodded tightly. “ _I had a friend. A fellow Tamassran who found herself in the same situation two years ago. She refused to give up the baby, and they… I don’t know what became of her, actually. I know not whether she was re-educated or subjected to qamek. I thought it foolish at the time, but now…”_

A single tear slipped from her eye before she continued in a shaky voice, “ _When I realized I was pregnant, I knew I had to leave. I couldn’t lose my baby.”_

Erik tilted his head. “ _I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but the Qun doesn’t have contraceptives?”_

“ _Nothing is certain,”_ she sighed “ _Even with the contraceptives, these things happen. It is expected for the child to be removed, as it was not a planned breeding.”_

“ _So you had an unplanned pregnancy, and you became Tal-Vashoth to keep the child,”_ he summarized, “ _The question remains, then: why did you come to us? It’s quite a way from Par Vollen._ ”

More silent tears fell from her eyes. “ _I wasn’t accepted anywhere. I knew I would be hunted or enslaved in Tevinter, and Orlais would have meant death. But when I heard that Inquisition accepted everyone for who they were, I had hoped you would take me, as well.”_

“Erik? Can you explain what’s going on?” Leliana called from a few feet away. He held up his hand toward her.

“Everything’s fine, Leliana. I’ll explain when we’re done here,” he returned. He didn’t want to have to start interpreting between the two.

“ _Who is she?_ ” the Tamassran asked.

“ _That’s Leliana, our Spymaster,_ ” he said, and at the woman’s sudden tensing, he added, “ _I won’t let her harm you. But I need to know you aren’t lying to us._ ”

The Qunari wiped her cheeks and shook her head. “ _What do you mean?”_

“ _We have a list of every Qunari agent in Thedas,”_ Erik explained, _“_ _Most of them are Viddathari, but there are a handful of Kossith on the list. Leliana’s the best in the world at what she does. If she senses you’re lying to us when we go over that list, there’s nothing I can do for you. If not, I’ll fight to grant you asylum.”_

“ _You can do this?”_

“ _The Inquisitor is my sister. If I vouch for someone, she’ll trust me,”_ he confirmed. Realization spread across the Tamassran’s features.

“ _You are the one they call the Champion of Andraste_.” Erik only nodded once in confirmation.

“ _I agree to your terms. I have nothing to hide,_ ” she declared, “ _What, exactly, would asylum entail?_ ”

“ _I’d imagine it would be a guarantee of a job, a place to stay, and protection for yourself and your child against any agents the Qun would send after you,_ ” he postulated.

“ _I don’t have any skills with labor,”_ the Qunari shakily said, “ _I mostly educated children. I enjoyed it until I became Tal-Vashoth._ ”

“ _Good. I’ve been meaning to push for an education system to be set up here,_ ” he smiled, “ _As long as you don’t teach the Qun, and stick to the more applicable skills like mathematics and the like, I can fight for you to keep teaching. Would you like that?”_

She nodded slowly. " _It is all I have ever known. I understand your fear of your children being converted, but I would not preach something I am no longer a part of._ ”

Erik smiled. “ _You sit tight. I’m going to go speak to my colleagues._ ” He gave the Kossith’s shoulder a light squeeze and approached Leliana, who was now accompanied by Josephine and Cullen.

“Well?” Leliana asked as she shifted Fudge’s weight in her arms.

“She’s a Tamassran,” Erik said, “Or, at least, she was. She had an unplanned pregnancy that the Qun would have demanded she get rid of, and that wasn’t a sacrifice she was willing to make, so she became Tal-Vashoth.”

Cullen tensed slightly and Josephine’s eyes darted nervously toward the horned woman, but Erik could see Leliana’s mind working.

“If she is telling the truth, we could learn much of the Qun from her,” she murmured, “For a Tamassran to turn Tal-Vashoth is almost unheard of.”

“I agree,” Erik said, “Good thing we have an almost-complete list of Qunari spies.”

The muscles in Cullen’s neck jumped. “Is this a wise idea? We could be opening ourselves to more exposure to the Qun than we already are with Iron Bull.”

Erik grunted in reluctant agreement. For all they knew, this was just another Ben-Hassrath agent, though it made little sense to send a Kossith – and a pregnant one at that. A new mother would have far too little time on her hands to collect any substantial intelligence. No, it would make far more sense to send a Viddathari and have them work as a servant.

“Which is why we will consult the list Erik lifted from Hawke,” Leliana spoke with a hint of steel in her voice, “There are few spies on the list that are Qunari; most are Viddathari. If we discern a reaction from her from any of the names, we will not take her in.”

There was a tense silence that fell over the four of them at that, and before it could get any worse, Josephine decided to break the awkwardness.

“Well, there is no time like the present, I suppose. Shall we conduct this now?” she asked. Erik nodded and strode back over to their pregnant visitor.

“ _If you’ll come with us, we’ll get this all sorted out_ ,” he said to her gently. The kossith woman nodded tensely and hauled herself up; Erik decided to walk alongside her while the three advisors led the way toward the rookery.

After less than an hour with the list and under the supervision of Leliana, they determined that she was, in fact, not a spy. Once her previous role in the Qun was determined to actually be Tamassran, they all relaxed slightly.

“Do you have a name?” Josephine asked her, while Erik acted as an interpreter between the two languages.

“ _No_ ,” the Tamassran shook her head, “ _We have no names in the Qun,_ _only titles. The young ones I taught called me Tama if that helps… though every Tamassran is called that by the children they educate.”_

After Erik translated for the advisors, Cullen winced slightly. “I don’t think calling you ‘Tama’ will be beneficial. We have a Ben-Hassrath with us, and I’m not sure how he’ll react to your presence.”

The Tamassran paled, making her light grey skin look almost paper white. “ _There is a Ben-Hassrath? Here? Is he still part of the Qun?”_

“ _He is. We call him Iron Bull, but his title under the Qun is Hissrad._ _He’s under orders to stay with us, and if he tries to do anything to you I’ll handle it. If I do my job right, however, he won’t be part of the Qun much longer.”_

She nodded, seeming to relax slightly at his reassurance.

“ _If calling me Tama won’t work, you may call me Pana. It seems like a fitting name, given my circumstances.”_

Erik thought for a moment because the word didn’t really translate to common. Then he realized Panahedan literally meant ‘take refuge in safety’, and he concluded that it meant something close to refuge. He explained as much to the advisors. Josephine nodded and began to write a handful of notes down.

“I’ll begin working on securing you a place to stay,” she announced, and with a final nod to Pana and the rest of the advisors, she was off.

“I must return to my duties, as well. The last message from the Inquisitor was… unsettling, to say the least,” Cullen sighed before standing with the same grunt every veteran soldier made when their joints ached. With the two other advisors gone, Pana looked nervously between Erik and Leliana. Erik flagged down a passing servant and asked for some food to be brought; he suspected they would be there a while. It was clear the Spymaster was eager to learn all she could about the Qun’s inner workings so as to better defend against it.

“I need to ask you a few questions on the Qun if that’s alright,” she said, confirming Erik’s suspicions. Erik translated for Pana as some meat and cheese were brought for the trio, and as he translated he realized the rest of his day had been shot.

* * *

Evelyn returned to Skyhold weary and filthy. She wanted a bath. She wanted to sleep. She wanted Cullen and her other advisors to greet her; she wanted to check in on Erik and see how his arm was. She wanted to prepare for the Satinalia celebration in two days. She wanted to drink in the tavern with her friends and persuade Erik to show them all some of the music from his world.

She did not get any of that. What she got instead was a brand new sentence greeting her ears as she wandered the castle to find her advisors.

“I would rather drag my naked balls through two miles of broken glass than wear that to Halamshiral.”

She heard it as she approached the door to Josephine’s office, and it stopped her dead in her tracks. The sentence was clearly said by Erik, and it had so much force behind it that she was inclined to take his side in regards to whatever he was refusing.

“My dear, that kind of language is not befitting of someone in your position,” Vivienne’s honeyed voice carried through the hall.

“What, a soldier displaced from his homeworld and thrown into an organization trying to save the world? I didn’t know there was a guide for that kind of thing,” was her brother’s sarcastic reply.

“It will be important to show a united front while at the Winter Palace,” she heard Josephine say, “All eyes in the Imperial court will be on the Inquisition.”

“And as soon as we walk in, they’ll see a bunch of nutcrackers led by Inquisitor Tomato and her brother, who also looks like a tomato,” Erik grunted as Evelyn opened the door. Erik turned and his face sagged in relief at Evelyn’s presence.

“Ev, thank fuck,” he groaned, “I know you’re probably tired, but you gotta stop these two.” The two in question were Josephine and Vivienne, who both had shocked and mildly offended looks on their face.

“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked as she raised an apprehensive eyebrow. Erik jerked his head toward a mannequin in the center of the office, and Evelyn had to do a double-take.

It was the most ridiculous outfit she had ever seen. Its roots were clearly military, with a bright red coat and a royal blue sash that ran from shoulder to hip. A pair of elbow-length leather gloves were matched by knee-high boots. It looked like a classic nutcracker.

“I’m inclined to agree with Erik,” she spoke hesitantly, “I’d rather drag my tits through two miles of broken glass than wear that to the Winter Palace.”

“But think of the statement it will make,” Josephine tried to explain before Erik cut her off.

“It’s not a statement, it’s a death wish. We’re going there to stop an assassin. Having the entirety of the Inquisition’s leadership stick out like sore thumbs is asking for us to get stabbed,” he argued.

“Who’s asking for us to get stabbed?” came a lilted, melodious and slightly emotionless voice. As if on queue, Leliana walked into the office, then stopped when she saw the nutcracker uniform. She stared at it for several moments before turning to the Ambassador.

“Josie, I love you like a sister and you’re the best diplomat I’ve ever met, but I am not wearing that to Halamshiral. If I’m going to be at the Imperial court for the first time in four years, I want to look pretty. This is more Erik’s style,” she turned to the man in question and eyed him shamelessly. Erik, for his credit, only slightly reddened.

“Maybe if it was black. With a silver sash instead of a blue one. Gold accents, but not too extreme,” Erik suggested.

“I agree,” Evelyn spoke up, “Look Josephine, Vivienne, we’re essentially a military organization. I get that we need to show a united front. But our Spymaster is supposed to work in the shadows, and you’re supposed to work with the nobility. I, for one, have no qualms wearing a uniform, but the colors are too much. I don’t want to look like an overripe apple. Maybe the colors Erik suggested would be better, and a gown for yourself and Leliana?”

“Black is a funeral color,” Vivienne protested.

“Well it’s definitely gonna be someone’s funeral if I’m caught wearing these colors to the Winter Palace,” Erik grumbled. Josephine and Vivienne ignored his protest and eyed the outfit. Evelyn did the same, trying to imagine the uniform in the colors her brother had suggested.

“It could work,” Josephine pointed out, “The silver sash and gold accents would offset the grimness of a black coat.”

“I would reluctantly agree,” Vivienne murmured, “Perhaps a Fade green sash for the Inquisitor, instead of a silver one?”

Evelyn wanted to protest the idea but decided against it. She trusted that the two women knew more about Orlesian politics than she did. Besides, a green sash would distinctly mark her as Inquisitor, making it less likely that the Orlesian nobility would talk down to her.

“Make a template for one with those colors,” Evelyn decided, “If it works, we’ll use it. If not, we’ll try something else.”

“Very well, Inquisitor,” the Antivan nodded, jotting down a few notes. Evelyn jerked her head out of the room and Erik followed. He cast a warm smile at Leliana on his way out.

They made their way up what had become known as the Inquisitor’s Tower (much to her chagrin) and into her personal chambers before closing the door. They sat down on the couch behind the stairs and sat in silence for a few moments.

“Howe said there’s a Grey Warden ritual that’s going to happen in the Western Approach,” she said to break the silence.

“I know. It’s not a Grey Warden ritual as much as it’s a ritual that uses Grey Wardens,” Erik supplied.

“What can you tell me about this?”

He bit his lip in thought and sighed. “The Grey Wardens are a necessary part of the survival of the world. If their order went extinct, the world would be doomed the next time an Archdemon rose. But they’re about to make a huge mistake, and it’s one that will give Corypheus his demon army if we don’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, I was wondering when the demon army would come into play,” she drawled, taking a small amount of pleasure in the smirk she earned from Erik.

“If you know this already, then why should I even go to the ritual in the first place?” Evelyn continued.

“Intel? I may have changed things? Because you need to see it for yourself? Take your pick,” he responded, “I have no idea when the final ritual is supposed to happen, but going with Hawke and Howe to the Western Approach will hopefully give you a clue. The one you’ll witness in your first trip to the Western Approach will be just a test. The real one will involve us sieging a centuries-old fortress on the edge of the Abyssal Rift.”

Evelyn worried her bottom lip in thought. “I don’t like it. If we end up not having time, we’ll have to march an army through a country in the middle of a civil war. That may cause more problems than it solves.”

“I would agree,” he nodded, “But the peace talks at the Winter Palace will largely stabilize Orlais. Hopefully, we’ll be able to handle that before we siege Adamant Fortress.”

She nodded and fell into silence once again as she pondered the situation. She was well-versed in Circle politics, but the Orlesian Game was a whole different monster. And she had never been in a true, full-scale battle outside of Haven’s fall. So many things could go wrong. The stress was already bearing down on her like a bronto lying on her chest.

“Will you come with us? To the Western Approach?” she asked tentatively. Erik sighed wearily in response.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t ask,” he said in a deadpan voice, “I hate the desert. But, if it’s for you, I guess I can’t say no.” She felt a smirk spread on her lips at his dry remark.

“I’m sorry. I’d _hate_ to take away time between you and your songbird,” she teased. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back.

“Don’t get cocky. I’ll just mercilessly push you toward our dashing Commander.” Her face reddened at his remark and his smile grew wider. She let out a huff of annoyance.

“All right, out. I smell like death and I need to change that.”

“As you command, _Inquisitor_ ,” he jabbed as he stood gracefully and slunk down the staircase.

“Ass,” she called after him, only receiving a laugh in response before she called on her connection to the Fade to fill her tub with steaming water and stripped down; she sunk into the water and let the heat wash her worries away.

* * *

Erik woke the next morning and realized that it was Satinalia. As he went about his morning routine, he decided his arm was healed enough to go without the sling, then he trotted down toward the courtyard to begin his workout. He did so in relative silence, though the stares he received from random passersby filled the air enough. He ignored them and continued to turn his legs into jelly.

His next stop was the tavern for breakfast, where he found Bull sitting in his usual spot. He plopped himself down next to the massive man and began to eat.

“I see you’re healed up,” Bull commented. Erik only grunted in response at first and gave a shrug.

“The wonders of healing magic,” he offered in explanation once his mouth wasn’t full of bacon.

“I suppose that’s true,” the Qunari responded before changing topics, “So, I saw another Qunari in the castle yesterday evening.”

Erik didn’t give himself away. “Yeah, there’s a handful of y’all running around here. You already know Herah, and there’s another working in the infirmary.”

“No, I’d never seen this one before. She was sitting in the gardens. Grey skin, black hair, looked kind of nervous. She was pregnant.”

Erik’s eyes turned to steel as they shot up toward Bull’s face. “Touch her and I will flay you alive, Hissrad.”

He held up his hands in supplication. “Hey, no need to bring my title into it. I was just curious. She new?”

“She became Tal-Vashoth not long ago. We’re keeping her safe here so she can raise her baby in peace.” Bull’s eyebrows raised slightly at Erik’s explanation.

“She wasn’t a breeder, was she?”

“No, she was a Tamassran,” Erik responded hesitantly, “The pregnancy was unplanned and she wasn’t willing to get rid of it.”

“Shit,” Bull cursed. He dropped his face into his hands and rubbed his eye. It was clear that Bull was not happy about the development, though he couldn’t tell whether it was a big enough deal to warn the Ben-Hassrath about.

“Well, there goes every secret about the Qun’s workings,” Bull drawled, “I hope you know this is a huge advantage.”

“I know.” They lapsed into silence for several minutes, both of them eating their meals. Erik was the one to break the quiet between the two of them.

“You coming to the Satinalia feast tonight?”

Bull gave him a level glare. “You know today doesn’t mean anything special to me.”

Erik shrugged. “When in Rome.”

“What?”

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” he quoted, “You’re here. You’ve been living ostensibly as Tal-Vashoth for years. Would it hurt to join in on a little festivity and enjoy it for what it is?”

Bull’s eye flashed with something unreadable for a brief moment before the hulking man became very interested in his breakfast sausage. He didn’t respond.

Erik finished his breakfast and clapped the man on the shoulder, knowing he had planted just a hint of doubt in his mind. “Think about it.”

The dinner feast was held that evening, and he was told it was the time when gifts would traditionally be given when he asked Josephine. The Inner Circle sat together, all petty grudges set aside. Even Solas and Bull had arrived, to Erik’s surprise. The feast was as close to a Smörgåsbord as he’d ever seen, with a seemingly endless amount of food served to the fourteen of them. By the time dinner was finished, Evelyn spoke up at the head of the table.

“Would anyone like to say anything?” she asked. Erik bit his lip in thought and glanced for a brief second at Leliana, then he nodded to his sister and stood up.

“This is my first Satinalia,” he started, “It’s my first Thedosian holiday at all, in fact. I was brought here under questionable circumstances and thrown into a bad situation made worse by the fact that I quickly realized this wasn’t my world. I was scared, to be honest. I didn’t know if any of you would trust me, or if I would just get taken out back and dealt with like a rabid dog.

“It was the former, thankfully. It was more than that. I didn’t think when I arrived in Thedas that I would find friends, or family, or a place I belonged. I found all three. I found a sister I never knew I had, I was graced with friends who trusted me for who I am… I even found lo –” he tripped over the word that almost spilled inadvertently from his mouth, and he choked on it for a split second. In a brief moment of panic, he glanced around the table. The only one who seemed to notice was Evelyn, whose eyes were wide with shock. He cleared his throat and continued.

“What I’m trying to say is that each and every one of you has trusted me for who I was and not where I was from or what I’ve done. You all have helped me slowly put the pieces of a life together here, and that is a debt I will never be able to repay. As a thank you, I got you each something I thought you’d enjoy. Call it a prophet’s intuition.”

Erik reached behind him and procured the crates of gift-wrapped boxes with each individual’s name on it before handing them out. Bull’s single eye lit up with glee at the polished drinking horn he’d had made from one of the dragon’s horns, and he let out a rumbling laugh that vibrated the floors. Dorian unwrapped his to find a bottle of Tevinter wine Erik had come across. Sera was greeted by a dragon-leather quiver, and Vivienne was granted a bottle of perfume and the location of a Snowy Wyvern, making the normally stoic woman gasp in shock. Blackwall’s gift was a set of carpentry tools and a Warden amulet, even if Erik knew that the man wasn’t a Warden at all. Solas was a bit more difficult for Erik, but he eventually settled on a warning about Wisdom, making the ancient god’s eyes widen in shock. Cassandra was given a book of poetry and a single piece of paper that read _Caer Oswin_ , and the Seeker immediately knew what the latter meant. Varric was given a hint about his publisher and editors being embezzling little shits, making him laugh in shock and amusement. Josephine’s gift was a warning about the House of Repose, Cullen’s was a shield reinforced with dragon bone, and Leliana’s was the lute Erik had seen her eyeing in the shop on their first date.

Evelyn’s was the trickiest. Despite how close he felt to the mage, he didn’t really know what to get her. Eventually, he’d settled on an exact replica of the staff she’d lost in Haven and a simple card that read _Get out of being Inquisitor for one day_. She laughed heartily at the voucher and placed it in her jacket pocket.

“Some of you were harder than others. Some of you were damn near impossible. I’m looking at you, Solas,” he joked, “But I hope I got all of you something that you’ll appreciate. It still doesn’t measure up to what you all have done for me, but I had to do something to show my appreciation.”

As it turned out, Satinalia turned into Christmas on meth after the feast. It was part wholesome holiday merriment, part drunken rager, and all fun. Erik, for one, was simply sitting in the tavern with Leliana and observing their friends make drunken fools of themselves as the duo nursed their beers. Sera was shamelessly flirting with Herah, Dorian and Bull were doing something that could be called flirting, Varric was regaling a crowd with some tale or another, and the remainder were mingling about and enjoying themselves.

He felt a hard slap on his shoulder. “Eriiiiiiik!” Evelyn shouted, plopping down next to him and Leliana. She leaned in as if to say something, then her head dropped to the table with a giggle.

“I just want you to – _hic_ – know that I love you. You’re more of a brother to me than my brother is, and he’s… my brother,” she slurred, dragging herself across the wood grain as she spoke. Erik gave her a smile he reserved for drunk people and put a hand over hers.

“And you’re like a sister to me. And I couldn’t ask for a better sibling,” he said kindly. Evelyn beamed at his response and planted a drunken, sloppy kiss on his cheek before drawing back in shock, her eyes darting between Erik and Leliana.

“Oh, shit. Maker, I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Ev, you’re my sister. You can kiss me on the cheek when you’re drunk,” Erik laughed as he glanced over at Leliana, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying Evelyn’s drunkenness.

“Well, yes, but it was weird! You love _her,_ not me,” his sister babbled. Her eyes went wide once again and Erik felt his face heat up, even as he tried to suppress the reaction.

“I’m going to leave now,” she whispered, dragging herself up and stumbling face-first into Cullen, who she immediately graced with a beaming smile as she dragged the man toward the forming dance floor in the middle of the Herald’s Rest.

“What did she say?” Leliana asked at his side, her voice colored with surprise. Erik dropped his head into his hands and let out a sigh, unsure of how to confront the looming conversation between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive, bitches. Still no gunshot wounds this time. Sorry it took so long, but I had no wifi for a little while and had bigger fish to fry anyway. Plus, this chapter did not want to be written. Hopefully, the next one is easier.
> 
> Chapter is named for It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish by My Chemical Romance - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSHE66JCES0


	27. Blinded by Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inner Circle rides into the Western Approach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting into the start of the Halamshiral arc here soon. It'll probably be four or five chapters long; I'm planning on having the actual Winter Palace sequence take up three or so chapters.
> 
> Yadda, yadda, Bioware owns Dragon Age, yadda yadda, something about transformative works.

Evelyn didn’t want to leave so soon, but it had to be done. They’d all agreed that it made the most sense to ride out to the Western Approach immediately and meet back up with the remainder of the Inquisition in Halamshiral. It would be tight, but if they timed it right and moved swiftly enough, they would arrive a week before the peace talks at the Winter Palace.

Erik was surprisingly tight-lipped about the whole affair looming in the Orlesian Empire. The only thing he would divulge was that “Orlais must be stable by the time the ball is over”, which wasn’t saying much. Though he didn’t say it, Evelyn could tell he was more worried about the approaching crisis with the Grey Wardens than the peace talks at the Winter Palace. It made sense, in a strange way; the Game was so subtle that anything he could say would potentially change their entire plan. More than once in the several days after Satinalia he’d complained about Leliana trying to sneakily pry information about Halamshiral from him whenever they’d spent time together.

Finally, four days after Satinalia, they’d decided that they couldn’t wait for Harding’s scouts to arrive and survey their desert destination and that it was prudent they moved as soon as possible. Erik had healed up enough that he felt ready to move, and Hawke, Isabela, and Howe were all already on their way to the Western Approach. The Inner Circle prepared and said goodbye at noon the next day.

“Remember, look out for any potential advantages while you’re in the Approach,” Cullen told her as they said their farewells, “If we are to do battle in that wasteland, we’ll want every advantage we can get our hands on.”

“I know, Cullen. Don’t worry. We’ll make note of anything we see out there. You can rest your tactical mind.”

He laughed and shifted his weight slightly. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to completely set that part of me aside.”

“Then take some time for yourself while we’re gone,” she urged, “Relax. Read a book or something. And don’t forget to eat. Or sleep. Or generally take care of yourself, really.”

“I don’t forget to take care of myself,” he protested. She barked out a laugh.

“Yes you do, Cullen. Take some time to yourself while we’re gone. Consider it an order.”

He raised an eyebrow at her words. “Of, course, _Inquisitor_.”

“Don’t get cocky with me. I can still put you in your place, you overgrown mabari,” she teased.

“I’d like to see what form that would take,” he grinned. Evelyn felt butterflies in her chest and a small warmth in her stomach at his tone, and she glanced away from the Fereldan’s face and towards her brother. He was saying his goodbyes to Leliana. Despite her stony facade, the Spymaster let a hint of worry seep into her features, which meant that she was likely wracked with anxiety over Erik’s departure. Her brother planted a final kiss on Leliana’s brow and strode over to his horse, Isaac.

Evelyn turned back to Cullen, and, on impulse, stood on her toes and planted a quick farewell kiss on his cheek. As she pulled back, she didn’t regret it. The way his face flushed in embarrassment was absolutely adorable, as was the way he rubbed the back of his neck out of sheer habit.

“I’ll see you in Halamshiral, Cullen,” she said in farewell. Cullen only stammered in response, and she left him stunned and swung herself atop Epona.

The eleven of them rode out of frigid mountains and toward the desert.

They rode quickly, only stopping at midday and just after dusk each night. Erik had grown somewhat of a rapport with Bull and Dorian, and the man seemed to be secretly playing matchmaker between the Tevinter mage and the Qunari spy. Evelyn laughed at the image that conjured. The two men were total opposites; still, she supposed stranger things had happened.

They were all sitting in an inn Vivienne had recommended when they’d stopped in Montsimmard nearly three weeks into their journey along the Imperial Highway. Evelyn had decided to press her brother on what he knew about the ritual they would be crashing, and it derailed from there.

“The mastermind is a Magister named Livius Erimond,” he’d revealed.

“Erimond? That man’s always been a prick,” Dorian commented.

“You know him, Dorian?” Cassandra asked pointedly. Evelyn sighed and hoped the conversation didn’t devolve into baseless infighting.

“Only through my family’s place in the Magisterium. I don’t know him personally,” he defended.

“What do you know about Erimond?” Bull asked.

“He’s an insufferable asshole,” Dorian grumbled, “Always going on about ‘Tevinter supremacy’, even when no one wanted to hear it. The man’s so full of himself it’s a wonder his head hasn’t burst yet. His sister isn’t much better, frankly.”

“From what I know of him, that’s a pretty accurate description. He’s an irredeemable fuckwad,” Erik added from the inside of a glass of wine.

“Enough about that,” Bull said, “Most of the guys we’re going to be fighting are dicks. I want to know what to expect in regards to the Approach.”

Erik raised an eyebrow in question. “What do you want to know?”

“What it’s like to fight in a desert. I’ve never been to one, let alone fight in one,” the Qunari said.

Erik sighed and ran a hand through his short beard. “I fucking hate the desert. Most of the combat I’ve seen has been in the desert. It sucks. It’s hot, it’s dry, and you will not be completely clean no matter what you do. There’s always going to be a fine layer of dust on you. Considering that it’s winter, it shouldn’t be too bad, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

Cassandra grunted. “It does not matter. The Second Blight permanently affected the weather in the Approach. It is always at least warm, if not blistering hot. I had to travel there once while I served as Divine Beatrix’s Right Hand.”

“Then as we move, we’ll need to either move at night or have an asinine amount of water on us,” Erik commented.

“Define ‘asinine’ for us,” Varric commented. Erik stared at the ceiling for a moment in thought.

“Whatever your normal water intake is, double it and add half again,” he said, “It’s going to be worse because we won’t have time to acclimatize to the heat. We’ll have to take long halts decently often, preferably in shaded areas. We shouldn’t wear armor unless we need to, but wear long sleeves. I know it sounds counter-intuitive, but anyone paler than Dorian is going to get absolutely awful sunburns.”

“We aren’t even there yet and I hate it already,” Sera groaned before taking a long drink of her ale.

“For once, I’m inclined to agree with Sera,” Vivienne interjected, “It seems awful.”

“That was all just walking around in the desert,” Erik laughed, “I didn’t even touch on fighting in a desert.”

“Oh, joy. It gets better. Why don’t you bring our spirits down just a bit lower with how fighting in a desert is, Champion?” Blackwall deadpanned. Erik just gave a malicious grin.

“I can’t really describe it. You’ll just have to see.”

Evelyn did not like that response one bit.

Erik and Evelyn shared the first watch shift the next night on the road. The night was largely peaceful, and they merely sat in comfortable silence, largely safe from threats due to the wards she, Vivienne, Dorian and Solas had set up around their campsite. Erik had disassembled his rifle and was going through the process of cleaning each individual part in silence; Evelyn watched on with rapt attention. He was using oil to wipe the black grime from each of the pieces before placing them back down on the cloth before him. He ran a length of rope wrapped in cloth and copper wire through what he called the ‘barrel’ before putting his eye up to it and inspecting the inside. When everything was clean, he reassembled the weapon in under a minute and checked its functionality.

“I want to run something by you,” Erik said when he reloaded the weapon and set it down beside him. An hour had elapsed; they were a third through their shift. Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to continue.

“Erimond will be at the ritual we’re going to see,” he explained, “From what I understand, he’ll survive the encounter and try to incapacitate you. He’ll show up later when we attack Adamant. I’m thinking about changing that.”

Evelyn looked at him in confusion. “Why run that by me?”

“Because I don’t know what the consequences of that would be. It may fail entirely. It may prevent the entire battle we’d have to fight, or it may make everything ten times worse. I don’t know.”

His eyes met hers. “If you want me to give it a go, I’ll do it. But I want this to be your call. I don’t want to intervene unless you agree it’s the right decision.”

She chewed her lip in thought. It was true, Erik hadn’t really intervened much; he’d only gone to Therinfal where she couldn’t. He seemed to be content with letting people make their own choices with the information he provided. So if he was thinking about killing this Erimond when he would normally survive, it was significant enough for her. More than significant, in fact.

“Give it a go. Just run us through what you’re going to do when we get to the Western Approach,” she said.

Erik gave her a tight nod in response. “I just want you to know that I have no idea what the outcome will be. It could change things in more ways than one, though I imagine he’s more a cog in a machine than anyone important. Corypheus will just replace him.”

Evelyn didn’t respond, though she figured he was right.

* * *

They met with Harding as soon as they entered the Approach, and Erik had deigned to simply listen. She warned them about the heat and the Venatori running around the desert before giving them a map showing the location of the Warden activity they’d picked up on. They thanked the lead scout and moved on, marching up and over a hill ahead of them.

“Welcome to the sandbox,” Erik rasped as they crested the hill. The rest of the Inner Circle was just behind him and Bull at the front and their faces went slack in disappointment once they met the two men.

As Erik scanned the Western Approach, he sighed in grim satisfaction. It looked a lot like the Syrian Desert, which he knew all too well. The sun had risen maybe four or five fingers above the horizon, so it still wasn’t blistering hot just yet. Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the bone dry air. The familiar feeling of a fine layer of desert sand had already caked itself onto his exposed skin. It was almost like he was back in western Iraq or southern Syria. Except they had mages and were fighting with swords, and their enemies didn’t have IEDs and DShK machine guns. Still as radical as what he was fighting before, though.

“It’s not even noon and this is already shitty,” Bull grunted.

“The sand wants my feet to say,” Cole murmured. He had a thought pop into his head, and he turned to the Qunari next to him.

“Hey, Bull. Reach into my bag, smallest pouch. There should be a small paper box in there with what you’d recognize as Tevene letters. Could you grab it for me?” The giant man did as he asked, handing him a small packet made to look even smaller in Bull’s giant hands. Erik breathed a sigh of relief.

“I thought I’d left these in here,” Erik laughed, taking the pack and opening the top. Four left. He could work with four.

“What is that?” Dorian asked from Erik’s left. Evelyn was peering around Dorian’s shoulder at the pack as Erik slid one of the small cylinders between his lips.

“It’s a pack of cigarettes. I always smoked two during a deployment. Once when I got in, once when I left,” he stopped and realized he didn’t have a lighter, “Can one of you make a flame about the size of a candle?”

Dorian obliged, albeit with a confused look on his face. Erik leaned in until smoke came off the end, then he took a long drag and inhaled. He let out the puff of smoke with a satisfied sigh.

“That’s better. I was gonna be super salty if I left these things on Earth,” he took another drag and looked at Evelyn, “Come on. We better get moving if we don’t want to bake out here.”

It didn’t matter. They baked anyways. By an hour before noon, the heat was beyond sweltering and they’d stopped in the shadow of some ruins for shade. Thankfully, the breeze didn’t feel like a blow-dryer set on hot, but it was still absolutely terrible nonetheless. Everyone but he and Cassandra was shocked at the blistering heat, though neither of them were quite happy about it, either. By noon, it was just like running around the Anbar Province in the middle of July. The cigarette had helped, connecting him to his old life ever so slightly. It felt a bit ridiculous that a bit of tobacco rolled in a piece of paper would comfort him, but he was glad it did; Erik wasn’t quite ready to completely let go of where he’d come from yet.

They stopped for almost four hours and hid in the shade. It was just as much to get their bearing as it was to hide from the punishing sun. They’d collectively agreed to not ride the horses and leave them with Harding, and without them, their loads were just a bit heavier.

Evelyn pulled out the map as Erik and Cassandra squatted down next to her as she gauged their location. He was always good with a map, and even if the one they had on hand didn’t have grid squares, he could still figure it out regardless.

“So we’re here,” Evelyn pointed with her pair of compasses, “And the ritual tower Harding told us is over here… We could make it by tomorrow afternoon if we move quickly.”

“Keep in mind that you and the other mages will have to keep creating our water,” Cassandra pointed out, “And having no horses may slow down our progress.”

“I say we rack out now,” Erik suggested as he wiped the dust from his rifle’s upper receiver, “We’ll move faster at night. Take a halt during midday tomorrow, and then make the final push when it’s not as hot.” Evelyn was silent for a moment, then gave a sharp nod, her face settling into what Erik had decided to call ‘Inquisitor Mode’. She turned to the rest of the Inner Circle.

“Get some space in the shade to sleep,” Evelyn ordered with the confidence of any seasoned commander, “Try to get as much sleep as you can. We’ll keep the same guard rotation we’ve been having, and move at sundown.” Nods of acknowledgment met her orders, and the eleven of them began to unroll their sleeping equipment.

“You’re getting good at this,” Erik complimented to his sister. She gave him a smirk in return, but there was a hint of gratitude behind it.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve had supporting friends and family,” she postulated. Erik gave her a quick hug and they climbed to the top of the ruins together to pull security for their friends below.

* * *

They marched quickly toward the ritual tower their plan of movement going off without a hitch. By the time they reached the tower, Howe, Hawke, and Isabela were all hiding just outside the bridge leading to the tower.

“It’s good you’re here, Inquisitor,” Howe greeted, “They’ve started the ritual.” Evelyn’s stomach sank slightly.

“Looks to be blood magic, from what we saw,” Isabela spat. Hawke, for her part, put her hand on her paramour’s shoulder and gave a facetious smile.

“Isn’t shit like this always blood magic?” she shook her head, “Come on. We need to crash this thing before it gets out of hand.”

They all prepared to move until Evelyn felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Erik staring at her with his eyes devoid of emotion.

“You still want me to see if I can take him out?” he asked. Evelyn nodded.

“Where do you need to be?” she asked. Erik clicked his tongue and looked at the arch just before the bridge.

“It’ll probably be a bit toasty, but I can get up to the top of the archway. He won’t see me and it’ll be a good vantage point,” he paused, “Remember, just keep him talking. Give no indication I’m even here.”

She nodded again and moved to the remainder of her companions as Erik grabbed the old stones and began to scale them. Varric raised an eyebrow, and Evelyn shook her head and placed a finger to her lips. They moved across the bridge, and what Evelyn saw was what every Circle mage in history was warned about.

Several demons stood by a handful of Grey Wardens, and there were nearly a dozen corpses littering the ground, their throats all slit. The mages stood coldly as one remaining non-mage Warden remained."Wait..." he said shakily to another, a Mage, "No."

An arrogant looking Tevinter man stood on a dais behind the Wardens. Evelyn assumed he was Erimond; his black hair was pulled back and greasy, and his beard was wispy and not thick enough to warrant even growing one. His eyes were full of superior disdain as he looked down his hooked nose at the Warden. "Warden-Commander Clarel's orders were clear," he said in a haughty voice.

"This is wrong," the protesting Warden muttered. It was clear not all the Wardens quite agreed with Clarel’s insane plan.

"Remember your oath: In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death..."

“I’m sorry, my friend,” the Mage Warden drove his blade into his brother’s stomach. Evelyn fought the urge to attack then and there, but she successfully beat it down.

“...Sacrifice.” The Tevinter smiled smugly. The Veil tore and her hand flared; a rage demon clawed its way through and dropped to the ground in a heap. "Good. Now bind it, just as I showed you." The Warden Mage conducted a quick spell and the rage demon pacified.

They all readied their weapons, and the Tevinter smiled at them. "Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, and your service," he bowed slightly.

“You… are not a Warden,” Howe stood, shocked.

“But you are," Erimond sighed, "The Hero of Ferelden’s Constable. The one Clarel let slip. And you found the _Inquisitor_ and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?"

Evelyn looked at the gathered Grey Wardens. "Wardens. This man is lying to you. He serves an ancient Tevinter Magister who wants to unleash a Blight."

"That's a very serious accusation," Erimond said, smugness dripping from his voice as he stroked his goatee, "Let's see what the Wardens think. Wardens, hands up," the Wardens raised their hands like puppets on a string, "Hands down." They dropped their arms.

“Corypheus has hold of their minds,” Howe breathed.

"They did this to themselves. You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked everywhere for help," Erimond explained.

"In desperation, they turned to the Imperium," Evelyn guessed. Her companions drew their weapons.

Erimond nodded, clearly amused. "Yes. And since it was my master who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared. I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together, we came up with a plan… Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake."

Oh!” she laughed sarcastically, “I was wondering when the demon army would come into all of this. Remember the demon army, Dorian?” Her fellow mage grimaced slightly.

Erimond’s look of superiority dropped away and he actually looked shaken. "You know about it, did you? Well, then, here you are," he tapped his staff, "Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves. _This_ was a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas."

She sighed in exasperation. “Of all the insane... do you really want to see the world fall to the Blight? What do you get out of this?"

"The Elder One _commands_ the Blight. He is not _commanded_ by it, like the mindless darkspawn. The Blight is not unstoppable or uncontrollable. It is simply a tool."

“Someone’s certainly a tool,” Varric muttered. Evelyn silently agreed. This guy was an asshole.

"As for me: while the Elder One rules from the Golden City, we, the Venatori, will be his god-kings here in the world," Erimond finished, ignoring Varric’s quip.

Evelyn twirled her staff and began to prepare a spell, red rage flooding her mind. "Release the Wardens from the binding and surrender. I won't ask twice."

He sneered. "No. You won't."

Red magic burst from his hand, and the Anchor flared, dropping her to her knees in pain. "The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again. The mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You _stole_ that from my master. He's been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade. When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be -"

He didn’t finish his evil monologue. Evelyn focused and forced the energy to reverse, opening a small rift in front of his stomach. He gasped in pain as he was knocked back against the wall.

Then the side of his neck exploded with a deafening _CRACK._

* * *

Erik crawled on his belly into position and lay his bag before him as a support for his weapon. Before he shouldered it, however, he glanced around. The sun was setting to his right and slightly behind him, meaning his optic wouldn’t give his position away. He crawled forward slightly and looked through his optic. He could see Erimond on top of the dais. He did some quick math in his head as he gauged the milliradians in the optic.

_Average human height is 1.6 meters. Target is six milliradians tall in the optic. Multiply that by a thousand… 266 meters away._

It was an easy shot, closer and with a better vantage point than the furthest target at a standard rifle qualification back in the Army. He moved his optic to the correct position, zeroing in on Erimond’s head. The wind had mostly died down, so he didn’t need to adjust for it.

He could see Erimond speaking with Evelyn. She was gesticulating pretty violently, and Erimond hadn’t moved this entire time, as if he was even above moving down to where the ritual was actually happening.

“Just keep him talking, Evie,” he murmured. Suddenly, Erimond threw his hand out, and his sister’s mark sparked as she dropped to her knees.

“Shit.” He had completely forgotten about this part. He didn’t know what the result of killing Erimond in the middle of his spell would be, let alone what it would do to Evelyn. So he waited, just a bit more. He saw Evelyn bring her marked hand upward just a bit, and he noticed the telltale sign of a rift opening, just near Erimond’s navel.

Erik took a deep breath in. The rift exploded open, throwing Erimond back against the wall close behind him. The offworlder exhaled and squeezed his trigger smoothly.

Half a second later, the side of Erimond’s neck exploded in a shower of blood. It wasn’t a clean kill. It may not have even been a kill at all, thanks to the Magister’s stumble. But it probably caused him pain and blew out his vocal cords, as well.

“Get fucked, nerd,” Erik chuckled as Erimond gripped his neck with his hands in a desperate attempt to staunch the blood flow. He foundered away clumsily, and the enslaved Wardens began attacking his friends.

Erik had never regretted killing anyone, but this was different. Every squeeze of his trigger was done reluctantly. He’d always respected the Wardens and the sacrifices they’d made without thanks. He could see it wasn’t easy for Evelyn or Blackwall or Howe down below, either. Neither was it easy for Isabela and Hawke, their minds likely on Marian’s baby sister in the Wardens. Erik shifted to the demons and began dispatching them from his vantage point, as well. One by one the Wardens and bound demons fell until there was nothing but corpses left. Erik grabbed his gear and climbed down the pillars. He trotted up as his friends were examining the dead.

Howe sighed. “My worries have been confirmed, it seems. The mages who complete the ritual are bound to Corypheus.”

"And the Warden warriors?" Hawke asked. Howe gestured to the sacrifices. "Oh, of course. It's not _real_ blood magic until someone gets sacrificed."

“Fuck that guy. This can’t be allowed to stand,” Erik barked defiantly as he approached.

Howe didn’t argue. He looked at the horizon. "In the direction Erimond fled, there’s abandoned Warden fortress. Adamant. I believe we'll find the Wardens there.”

"Howe, Izzy and I will scout out Adamant and confirm the other Wardens are still there," Hawke declared, "We'll meet you back at Skyhold when we’ve confirmed their presence.” Evelyn nodded and they left the ritual tower.

They moved under night in complete, morose silence. When they made camp at dawn, Evelyn and Varric approached Erik.

“He stumbled. I missed his head,” he started. Evelyn let out a guffaw.

“That was still a damn impressive shot, Offworlder,” Varric laughed. Sera nodded in agreement from her bedroll.

“That was nothing,” Erik shrugged, “People in my world have made shots from a mile away.” Evelyn sighed deeply.

“We need to move quickly,” she declared, “We can deliver our report to the advisors when we reach Halamshiral. I don’t want to stay in this sandy, Maker-forsaken shithole any longer than we have to.”

On that, Erik agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Blinded by Fear by At the Gates - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Agvu4drr2c
> 
> In regards to Erik smoking: smoking on deployment is a thing in combat arms. It's a thing in general in the military, but especially in country. I don't know why. Probably has to do with the amount of stress we're under.


	28. Swanheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions run high. Talks are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here y'all go. If you need me, I'll be in my mortar bunker from the shitshow that this might start.

The ride out of the Western Approach was relatively quiet. Evelyn noted a decent-sized keep that Erik and Bull noted could be used as a staging point for their future assault on Adamant. Outside of that, the wasteland was largely empty, and with three weeks to reach Halamshiral, Evelyn had decided they could take their time getting out of the Approach and back into the more populated bits of Orlais. Which, as it turned out, was both a blessing and a curse, depending on how one looked at things. For Erik, Sera, and Varric, especially, it was a blessing. Vivienne and Solas, on the other hand, viewed it as a curse. Both had the same reason: eight days after they intervened with the trial ritual in the central Approach, Hawke, Howe, and Isabela met them.

They heard them before they saw them, really. Half a day out of Montsimmard, while they were camping in the woods just before dusk, they heard a cheerful, feminine voice call out.

“Look, Izzy! A band of misfits! Maybe they’ll be willing to take us in,” Hawke’s charismatic voice wafted toward them.

“Oh, hell yes,” Erik gave Varric a grin as he stretched the length of his body out against a log. Evelyn simply sighed and rolled her eyes. He was having too much fun with this

“Well, hello there,” Isabela greeted as the trio approached their campfire, “Care if three more idiots join your group of idiots?”

“Two idiots,” Howe deadpanned, “I’m simply traveling with you.”

“And voluntarily doing so makes you an idiot,” Hawke cheerfully concluded.

“Hawke. Isabela. Howe,” Evelyn greeted, “You’re welcome to travel with us. Though you should know, we aren’t going back to Skyhold. We’re heading to Halamshiral.”

Howe raised an eyebrow. “Really? Whatever for?”

“It’s the other half of Corypheus’s plan,” Erik explained, “Stab the Empress of Orlais and anyone else with a claim to the throne in the face so there’s no one to lead the country. Then the demon army the Orlesian Wardens summon tramples the south with hardly any resistance.”

“There are peace talks happening in a couple of weeks to put an end to the civil war,” Evelyn added, “Our Ambassador managed to secure our invitations.”

“Ooh, a ball at the Winter Palace, is it?” Hawke turned toward her lover, “I say we go.”

“The event is invite-only. Not just any street filth is let in,” Vivienne sneered, all pretense of the Game gone.

“Firstly, I don’t particularly care,” Marian pointed out, “And second, you forget that I’m a noble as much as any of those idiots in the court with their heads stuck in their arses.”

Evelyn had, at this point, buried her face in her hands. They couldn’t just add Isabela and Hawke to their list of attendees. Besides, with the way the two women acted, Josephine would likely have a heart attack. But at the same time, she couldn’t find it in herself to say ‘no’ to the Champion of Kirkwall.

“Just crash it,” Erik laughed, “Who’s going to stop you? As soon as the court finds out who you are they’re going to forget that you weren’t invited in the first place. Plus, it could give us a few good distractions.”

“He has a point,” Bull conceded. Evelyn found herself agreeing with Erik and Bull once again, albeit reluctantly. She sighed and looked up to the two trouble-making women.

“Fine. Ride with us to Halamshiral. If you want to invite yourselves to the peace talks, I won’t stop you.”

“You, my dear Inquisitor, know how to treat a lady. Ruffling fragile Orlesian sensibilities is always a good time,” Isabela drawled, her words sugary sweet.

Howe had elected to travel with them as far as Halamshiral, then move on to Skyhold for some rest. It was a good thing, too, because Evelyn had questions for the man.

“What did you find at Adamant?” she began when they were almost to Lydes. Howe let out a deep, weary breath. The remainder of the Inner Circle drew their mounts ever so slightly closer so they could listen in on the conversation.

“The ritual will almost certainly take place there. I counted almost a hundred and fifty of my Orlesian compatriots at the fortress,” he explained, “Though it will likely be a few months before they are completely ready.”

“A ritual on the scale of the one the Wardens are planning would take some time, but not _that_ long,” Dorian noted.

“The Orlesian branch of the order is the second largest, behind the Ander chapter. There are some eight hundred scattered throughout Orlais, and it will take some time for them all to gather, with so much ground to cover.”

“What about the other countries?” Varric asked. Howe’s face remained impassive.

“I doubt Weisshaupt knows what is happening. I didn’t hear anything that would imply that the false Calling reaches that far north. The First Warden gives a considerable amount of freedom to each Warden-Commander. They act as they see fit.”

“Meaning?” the dwarf pressed.

“Meaning even if Warden-Commander Clarel came up with this insane plan, the other Warden-Commanders wouldn’t be obliged to follow her,” Blackwall said, “Not without orders from the First Warden.”

“And she would never do that unless another Blight started and it gained momentum,” Howe added, “The First Warden acts as both Warden-Commander of the Anderfels and as a political figurehead in the Anderfels. The Grey Wardens hold considerable political power there. They essentially work in tandem with the monarchy.”

“I don’t understand. How is the First Warden not aware of what is happening in the south?” Cassandra asked in a bewildered tone.

“Each Warden-Commander sends a yearly report to Weisshaupt. I imagine it’s too time-consuming to send a message all the way to Weisshaupt and wait for a reply,” Erik postulated.

Howe gave Erik a strange look that made Evelyn’s hair stand on end. “Indeed. It makes far more sense to act on their own.”

“So, then. On to the dragon in the room,” Bull interjected, “What the hell are we going to do with the Wardens when we stop them? I mean, they’re summoning a _demon army_ for fuck’s sake.”

“They are doing what they feel is necessary,” Blackwall defended quietly.

“But it’s not necessary. So all the Wardens hear this Calling. So what? All they do is fight darkspawn,” Sera debated.

“It is not so simple,” Howe almost snapped.

“Is it not? The Wardens are an archaic order in a changing world. They are no different than any other man or woman,” Vivienne haughtily threw her opinion. Evelyn glanced around quietly, her eyes falling on Erik. He was furious.

“I swear, for the best and brightest of this Age, y’all are pretty fucking stupid,” Erik growled. Vivienne raised an eyebrow.

“Do enlighten us, my dear. What does a man not even native to this world know of the enigmatic Grey Wardens?” Vivienne spat venomously.

“Erik…” Evelyn pleaded. She didn’t want him to start a fight. Not with the way that Howe was glaring at him.

Her brother evidently didn’t care. “What I’m about to tell all of you is not to leave the fourteen of us. If you spread this, I will find you and kill you. Do you understand?” Vivienne scoffed, and Erik did something Evelyn never thought he would do. He drew back the handle on his rifle and pointed his weapon at an ally.

“I can kill you know, Vivienne, and save us all some trouble,” he barked, spooking a couple of the horses and causing a handful of birds in the trees to flutter away, “I am not playing around. I will fucking kill you if you use this to advance your social standing.”

Evelyn put her hand on the barrel of his weapon and pushed it down gently. Erik didn’t budge. A tension had snaked its way through their party that had never been there before.

“Let’s all calm down here,” Hawke soothed, “What makes this so dire?”

“Champion, don’t,” Howe warned.

“They need to know, Nathaniel,” Erik spoke evenly, “Whether they know or not can change the fate of the entire order.”

Howe tensed, then licked his lips nervously. After a few short moments, he gave a tight nod. Erik didn’t take his barrel off Vivienne, who had erected a barrier.

“Put the rifle down and tell us,” Evelyn ordered gently. Erik shook his head.

“Not until I have everyone’s word that this doesn’t go beyond us.” Evelyn glanced around at everyone in the party. One by one, they all gave a nod. Vivienne was the last to agree. Erik put his weapon down and sighed.

“Joining the Grey Wardens involves a blood magic ritual where you drink a concoction that includes a small amount of lyrium and a vial of darkspawn blood, among other things,” Erik explained, “Only Wardens know how to make it. It permanently taints the one undergoing the Joining, if it doesn’t immediately kill them instead. But it also gives the Grey Wardens their abilities: enhanced strength, pretty much endless endurance, and the ability to sense darkspawn.”

Cassandra gasped in shock, and Vivienne looked less than pleased. Iron Bull’s face hardened. Howe dropped his head in sad acceptance.

“That still doesn’t explain why they’re so key in fighting a Blight,” Evelyn pointed out nervously.

"No, it doesn’t,” her brother sighed, “A Blight starts by the darkspawn horde finding and tainting one of the imprisoned Tevinter Old Gods, as everyone knows. When that happens, the horde finally has a head, like the queen of a colony of ants or bees. Then the Blight begins. If the Archdemon is slain by anyone other than a Grey Warden, the Archdemon’s soul simply jumps to the closest darkspawn, and because darkspawn are soulless, it eventually reforms its dragon body. Dumat, the Archdemon of the First Blight, was slain three times before the Wardens finally managed to kill him at the Battle of the Silent Plains.

“But, if the Archdemon is killed by a Grey Warden, its soul travels into the body of the Grey Warden due to the darkspawn taint in them. Two fully grown souls cannot coexist in the same body, so both souls are destroyed, killing both the Archdemon and the Grey Warden who killed it. _That’s_ why Grey Wardens are the only ones that can end a Blight. Because the one that kills the Archdemon dies to do it.”

A silence fell over the group at the weight of what was just revealed. Cassandra looked grim. Vivienne looked as though she was going to be sick. Evelyn couldn’t see Blackwall. Hawke, however, looked the worst out of anyone. She looked terrified; Evelyn quickly remembered that her little sister was a Grey Warden. Isabela ran a hand between Hawke’s shoulder blades in comfort, though her face didn’t look much better.

“Why? Why keep it a secret?” Dorian asked in a flabbergasted tone.

“Because if everyone knew the extent of what Grey Wardens truly sacrifice, no one would want to join us and our treaties would be dissolved,” Howe snapped, “Every soldier wants to have the glory of being the one to kill an Archdemon. No one wants to die for it. Besides, it’s in our creed. _In death, sacrifice._ ”

“That doesn’t make sense. How did the Hero of Ferelden survive slaying Urthemiel, then?” Varric asked.

Evelyn took a glance at Erik. She doubted anyone else saw it, but she knew the man well enough. He knew exactly how he survived. “No one knows. That’s why he’s _the_ Warden,” he lied.

* * *

They arrived in Halamshiral four days later, and Erik was glad for it. The last half week of the trip was beyond tense; interactions with Vivienne were out the window and he caught Hawke with tears in her eyes more than once. He felt terrible for revealing the Wardens’ secret, but Evelyn needed to know how vital the Wardens were to the survival of the world as a whole. The others needed to know, too. He refused to allow their opinions to sway Evelyn toward destroying Thedas’s only defense against the Blight.

They were staying at the de Ghislain estate in Halamshiral. Howe said his goodbyes and continued on to Skyhold, promising he would meet up with them once the peace talks were over. Vivienne had cleared it with Duke Bastien’s wife beforehand, considering Bastien himself was too ill to handle things himself. The estate itself was opulent, with what Erik would call an almost Elizabethan style of architecture. They entered the courtyard and a handful of servants came to take their horses. Inquisition soldiers marched about and ran drills in the yard, and Erik noted it was Herah’s company. He was secretly glad that her unit wasn’t being tossed to the wayside because of its make-up within the companies. Her company was arguably the most elite unit they had, and they deserved to be utilized. He gave Herah a friendly wave as they strode to the front door, and she gave a friendly nod in return. She caught Sera’s eye briefly and blushed deeply before turning to speak with Lavellan, causing Erik to laugh fondly.

They all trudged through the foyer, exhausted and filthy. As they entered the sitting room, or living room, or whatever the hell Orlesian nobles decided to call it, he noted that the advisors were all already in the estate. Leliana and Josephine were speaking in hushed voices as they nursed glasses of wine while Cullen fretted over some report or another. All three of them looked up as they strode into the room.

“You’re late,” Josephine coldly informed them, “You were supposed to be here last night.”

Evelyn heaved a sigh. “You try running around a wasteland like the Western Approach trying to find a single tower that may or may not be in ruins.” Erik admitted that she had a point. Without Harding doing most of the work for them, they would have wandered that desert for a week or more trying to find that fucking ritual tower.

“At least you’re here now. We have tonight and tomorrow to plan, then the peace talks begin the following day,” Leliana smoothed. Her eyes met Erik’s for a moment and briefly softening before she returned her gaze to Evelyn.

“We don’t have much time, then,” Vivienne noted, “Come, all of you. I’ll show you to the washrooms and where we shall be sleeping.”

After a bath and an hour-long power nap, Erik was ready to go back downstairs. The rest of his friends were already sitting at a long table, preparing for dinner and apparently arguing over the presence of Hawke and Isabela. Erik took the open seat between Dorian and Sera, noting with slight curiosity that Cole was _actually_ sitting at the table like a human.

“They don’t have an invitation. It would look bad for the Inquisition to spring two more guests unannounced,” Josephine was saying.

“Then contact Grand Duke Gaspard and inform him that we have two more that will be coming,” Evelyn ordered, “I know he’s already in the city. I saw his heraldry at the de Chalons estate when we rode into the city.”

Josephine pursed her lips and drummed her fingers on the table briefly before nodding tightly. “Very well, Inquisitor.”

“We are here to discuss our political strategy, not to argue over the merit of having Hawke in our party when we enter,” Cullen pointed out.

“I would argue that Hawke could be used as part of our strategy, but that’s beside the point,” Leliana countered before turning her gaze to him, “Erik, what can we expect for each of the three nights?”

Erik blinked. “Wait, what do you mean, three nights?”

“The ball will last three nights. You did not already know this?” Josephine asked, slightly shocked.

“Well, it looks like you and I will be drunk for three nights straight,” Erik whispered to Dorian. The Tevinter just barely managed to stifle a laugh. Erik turned back to Josephine.

“No. It probably made more sense to show it as a single event from the perspective I was shown,” Erik mused, “It doesn’t matter. The general premise is the same.”

“Which is?” Evelyn gave a gesture that said ‘continue’.

“We aren’t here to stop Celene’s assassination. We’re here to make sure Orlais comes out of this stable,” Erik explained.

“Yes, and to do that, Celene needs to survive,” Vivienne pointed out.

“Does she, though?” he asked rhetorically, “Gaspard would stabilize Orlais all the same.”

“What are you saying, Erik?” Evelyn asked hesitantly. He glanced over to his sister and saw the visible worry on her face. She was going to age five years before this war was over.

“I feel really bad for you on this one, Ev. Remember when I told you how there are no right choices sometimes? This is one of those times.”

She held up a hand and blinked in surprise. “Wait. Are you saying that I’m going to have to decide what’s best for Orlais?” Erik nodded solemnly, and he watched his sister’s face twist up before she shot upright and left the dinner table, climbing the stairs two at a time.

“She needs to be down here,” Leliana said coldly, “This involves her more than anyone else.”

“What she needs is someone to support her. I’ll be back,” he stood and followed his sister to the bedrooms.

Erik knocked before he entered. Evelyn didn’t respond immediately, so he simply pushed the door open and took a tentative step into the room. He found his sister sitting at the foot of the bed, sobbing. The door was quickly closed and locked, and he rushed forward and knelt down in front of her, rubbing her knee in comfort.

“Hey. It’s going to be alright. Talk to me, girl,” Erik soothed. She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks.

“I can’t do this anymore, Erik,” she warbled, “I’ve been dragged through pain and misery for the last six months and there’s no end in sight. The Breach, Redcliffe, Haven, the Judgments I’ve made… and now, I have to decide the fate of the most powerful nation in the world. I can’t _fucking_ take it anymore.”

Erik clicked his tongue and held out his arms. She melted into his embrace and collapsed into his shoulder, heart-wrenching sobs of stress and exhaustion coming from her. He held her there for longer than he could accurately time, swaying ever so slightly and humming gently to help calm her. And she did calm. Eventually, the broken sobbing came to a stop, and she merely sniffled into his shirt. Erik kept an arm around her shoulder as he pulled them both back to lean side by side against the bed. He leaned his head against hers.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said after a long bout of silence. She gave a wet cough and shook her head.

“How do you know?” she asked in a watery, defeated voice.

“Because you’re strong. You’re a good person. You have people to lean on,” he paused before adding in a humorous tone, “You have me as an amazing brother.” Erik dug one finger into the base of her neck, and she jumped in surprise, her neck tilting to one side as she let out a giggle despite her state.

“Seriously. You’re going to be okay. Just take every day one day at a time. Come to us if you need help. Don’t forget that you have people you can foist work onto if need be. You don’t have to carry the _whole_ world alone.”

“It feels like it, sometimes,” she murmured grimly, “You know, sometimes I have these dreams…”

“Tell me about them.”

Evelyn laughed and leaned her head back on the mattress. “It’s going to sound so mundane… It’s always the same. I’m living in a house just outside a city somewhere. Gwaren, maybe, or Ostwick. Somewhere by the sea, it doesn’t really matter. I have a nice house and a garden that I take care of. A dog… a child. Sometimes it’s a boy, sometimes it’s a girl, sometimes twins. It changes.”

“Is the father around?” Erik asked gingerly. Evelyn pulled her lips between her teeth and inhaled deeply.

“Not at first. It was you, for a little bit, until I realized that you’re basically my twin that was separated at birth,” she let out a shiver at the thought, and Erik felt nauseous at the idea, as well, “But ever since Haven fell, it’s been Cullen.” Erik did not know what to say to that. He knew she was crushing on the Commander, and he wasn’t sure how far she’d gone down that rabbit hole, if at all, but somehow this was different than seeing her steal glances across the courtyard or flirt with the shy Fereldan. It felt like he was intruding on her private life.

“I know it’s a desire demon. The dream Cullen, I mean. I know I should probably force it to leave but I can’t bring myself to do it. The dream is just too nice,” she went silent for a minute, “I just want a life like that, Erik, but I can’t have it. I’m a mage. I have a mark on my hand that people assume makes me sent by Andraste and the Maker. That life is beyond me.”

“It’s not, you know,” Erik disagreed, “It’s well within your grasp.” She looked at him in confusion.

“One day, this is going to be over. There’s a good chance the next Divine will dissolve the Circles forever, and southern mages will be free. That includes you. And Cullen? All that takes is a little courage.”

“Courage is the one thing I don’t seem to have when it comes to that,” she laughed dryly.

“You dropped a mountain on an evil Darkspawn Magister that started the Blight. You have the biggest balls I’ve ever seen. Asking Cullen if he feels the same way you do is a molehill compared to that mountain.”

She leaned further into him. “Still promise you’ll break his nose if he rejects me?”

Erik laughed and ran his fingers through her hair. “I promise, Ev.”

“Just don’t break it too badly,” she added, “I don’t want to ruin his good looks. Even if he says no, it’s still eye candy, you know?”

“That man is unfairly attractive,” he agreed with laughter in his voice, “So. You’ve had a bad night. Think it can get any worse?” She shook her head.

“Good. Then get up and go talk to Cullen. If he says no, you’ve already hit rock bottom today. If he says yes, your night just got a bit better.”

Evelyn bit her lip in thought, then stood and wiped her eyes and blew her nose into a handkerchief. “You’re right. I’m going to go talk to that overgrown mabari.”

“That’s my girl,” he stood and kissed her brow affectionately, “Remember, if he says yes, you’re one step closer to that dream of yours. Fruit tastes sweeter from a tree you grew yourself. Don’t ever forget that.”

* * *

Thankfully, her breakdown had drained Evelyn of her last shred of dignity. She simply did not care anymore. She marched down the hall and faced the room Josephine said was Cullen’s and knocked three times. He opened the door and realized she had been lying to herself.

“Inquisitor. Is there something you need?” he asked in that damned smooth voice of his. She suppressed a shudder and took a deep, calming breath.

“Can I speak with you? Alone?” Evelyn asked in the calmest voice she could manage. Cullen blinked once and nodded, stepping out of the door frame and letting her into the bedroom. He sat in the chair across from the bed, while she sat on the bed itself.

They sat in awkward silence, each of them fiddling with their hands in their laps. Cullen was the first to break the tension.

“There was… something you wished to discuss,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Yes,” she took another breath and wished her heart would stop beating so damned fast, “I’ve been avoiding this for far too long and I’m sick of not having agency over my own life, so that’s changing now.”

“What exactly do you mean?”

“Cullen, I care for you, and…” she sighed wearily, “You left the Templars, but I want to know whether you trust mages. Whether you could think of me as anything more.” His eyes went wide as saucers, his pupils were blown. Evelyn lost control of her breathing as she waited impatiently for his response.

“I could – I mean, I do think of you – and what I might say in this sort of situation,” he sighed and stood to look out the window. She followed him and leaned against the windowsill as he stared out into the streets of Halamshiral.

“Well then what’s stopping you?” she asked sadly.

“You’re the Inquisitor, and we’re at war,” he explained wearily, “And you – I didn’t think it was possible.”

“You didn’t answer my first question,” she realized. She felt like lead had formed in her stomach and she began to give up ever so slightly. This was a bad idea. It was only going to make a bad night worse and then she was going to go cry again and Erik was going to be furious and he was going to hit Cullen –

“I have treated magic with such mistrust,” he croaked, “And I’ve done terrible things because of that fear. Things that keep me up at night. And if I’m going to be honest, I still fight that fear, every day.”

The chunk of lead in her stomach only grew bigger.

“But I don’t view you that way. No matter how anxious I am around magic, I try to view its wielders as just people. At least, now I do. Still, I don’t think… I never imagined that you would be able to see me as anything but another one of your jailers.”

Evelyn looked him in his whiskey eyes, filled with regrets she couldn’t even possibly imagine. Regrets that she knew would haunt him to the end of his days. And she saw past that, and looked at the person beneath that regret.

“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” she pointed out tentatively. A small smile graced his lips, and the lead in her stomach began to dissolve.

“So you are. It seems too much to ask, but…” he trailed off and his eyes dropped to her lips. Evelyn’s stomach pooled with warmth, and her gaze danced along the curve of his upper lip and up along the scar that shot up to his cheek.

They were an inch apart when the door opened.

“Cullen, you wanted a copy of my intelligence report?” came Leliana’s lightly accented voice. They stepped apart awkwardly and Evelyn dropped her head, her mind filled with equal parts embarrassment and anger. They were having a moment here. Didn’t she have something better to do? Like Erik?

Cullen spun on Leliana. “ _What,_ ” he growled in frustration.

“I remember you saying you wanted it delivered ‘without delay’.” Wait a minute. Evelyn hazarded a glance at the Spymaster. Mirth twinkled in her eyes and she held a single scrap of blank paper in her hands. She did this on purpose!

“But I can see you’re busy. It can wait for the morning,” she smiled and stalked back out the door. Evelyn nearly melted in a puddle of awkward on the floor when the door latched shut.

“Perhaps we should –”

She never got to finish her sentence. Or her train of thought. Both were tossed out the window when warm lips met hers. Her eyes blew open in shock and she nearly shot off a spark of electricity in surprise. As it was, she felt like her whole body was on fire, anyways. Cullen hungrily moved his lips across hers, and she decided the moment was worth more than the thought she was having. She melted into the embrace, wrapped her arms around his neck, and simply enjoyed the feeling of his lips on hers and the tickle of his stubble on her cheeks.

* * *

“You were right. They were all over each other,” Leliana laughed. Erik glanced up from his book to find absolute and unfettered joy on her face.

“Thank the fucking Maker,” he laughed, “One more day of tension between those two, and I was going to explode.”

“I’m sure you and Cullen felt the same, to be honest. He was so furious that I interrupted,” she giggled, sending shivers down his spine that only got worse when she sat across his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You’re playing quite the matchmaker,” she mused, “First Dorian and Bull, and now Cullen and Evelyn. Is this all part of it? What you've seen, I mean.”

“I just like seeing people happy,” he paused, “How did you know about Dorian and Bull?”

She gave him _that_ look. “You _do_ realize who you have in your lap right now, no?”

Erik shrugged and brushed his nose against hers. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met?”

“And the best spy.”

“And the cockiest spy.”

“Just the most honest,” she whispered, drawing herself from his lap and pulling him up by the collar. Erik wrapped his arms across her waist as she snaked her hands around his neck, their foreheads touching. His thoughts were both clouded in nerves and racing at him with shocking clarity.

“Well, since we’re being honest with each other, there’s something I think I should tell you,” he murmured against her lips.

“Oh? And what is so important that you wait until such a night to tell me?” Leliana asked airily. Her breath smelled of candied roses and strawberries. Her skin was so warm beneath his brow. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and clear his mind of the cloud she had worked into his head.

“I think I'm in love with you.”

Leliana stopped breathing, and Erik began to panic. He messed it up. He had a really great thing going, and he messed it up. He was going to have to go cry in an empty room… or maybe to Dorian. He didn’t want to burden Evelyn with his own problems, especially after the night she’d had. Leliana still wasn’t breathing.

Then she pressed her slender body to his forcefully, and he had to take one, two steps back. The backs of his knees his the mattress and they collapsed onto it together as she pressed her lips to his, and the deepest relief he’d ever felt washed over him. The rest of his night was a haze of emotion and feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Swanheart by Nightwish - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNkRyCo4SL0
> 
> Once again, in the humble opinion of the author/the nicotine addict that gets shot at, I fucking suck at romance. Mostly because I suck at it in real life. I'm even worse at writing smut. In fact, I'm so fucking bad at writing it (more like I'm so uncomfortable with writing it) that there will not be any of it tarnishing this fic. I got a good thing going for me and I don't want to ruin it with a scene filled with 44 synonyms for the characters' genitals. Y'all are gonna have to go get your rocks off elsewhere if you want that, sorry. If that's your thing, there are a couple of pretty great scenes in Neither Angels, Nor Demons, Nor Powers by long_LIV_prairies. Probably my favorite DA fic I've read to be quite honest.


	29. Burnin' For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made. Erik goes off-script.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this one.

Erik was surprisingly warm when he woke, his face buried in the crook of Leliana's neck as his chest pressed into her back. His arms were around her midsection and his fingers were interlaced with hers as she slept peacefully. With no small amount of surprise, it occurred to him that it was the first night in recent memory that his sleep hadn't been plagued by nightmares of some sort; his sleep was deep and peaceful for the first time in years. _I_ _should have made this move sooner,_ he thought drowsily.

Erik absently traced the scars along Leliana's skin with his fingers. There were several littering her sides and a handful on her back that he could feel beneath his chest. Layered on top of each other, they told a story that he was sure the Orlesian would prefer to forget. Especially the biggest one. The largest and oldest scar was on the right side of her abdomen, just a hair higher than her navel. It was a cruel and jagged thing, faded with time yet still there. He didn't need to ask to know it was from her job in Denerim.

Erik thought of the night prior. For someone as confident as she was in both public interactions and privacy, she was beyond self-conscious about the dozen or so scars dotting her front, sides, and back. Every time his hands ran along one, her breath would catch timidly and her movements would cease, almost as though she were simply waiting to have him draw himself back in repulsion – which was an absolutely ridiculous thought. He didn't want some woman that hadn't known a struggle in her life, some noble who had been pampered and expected the world to hand everything to her without a second thought. Erik had struggled, and he’d learned the hard way that his partner would have to be able to relate to those struggles if they didn’t want strain between them.

As he thought, he came across the realization that the silvery marks across her body mirrored his, in a way. When they were both spent and exhausted after everything was over, they shared the story behind each one that marked them. Erik's burn scar on his right side that had been from being caught in an IED. The triplet lines that ran across her back that came from being nicked by Urthemiel's claws atop Fort Drakon. The divot on her left arm that came from a darkspawn's arrow in the Deep Roads. The bullet wound on his left shoulder from the firefight where he jumped out of a helicopter mid-flight. On and on they went between the two of them, sharing stories about each piece of their past.

She was the first woman he’d been with who hadn't been timid about the bumps, lines, and divots littering his torso and legs; she wasn't intimidated by his past the fact that he was basically broken in more ways than one. Erik supposed she was, too; he felt like they were two damaged pieces of pottery that somehow fit together despite separate origins.

Leliana let out a groan and twisted in his arms, her eyes fluttering open but still slightly clouded in sleep.

"Good morning," she grinned at him.

"Morning, beautiful," Erik tapped her nose before rolling over and taking a mouthful from the bedside pitcher, swashing the water around in his mouth and scraping his tongue over his teeth to get rid of his morning breath. He turned back to Leliana and gave her a quick peck. Her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions, anxiety and fear foremost.

"What's wrong?" She didn’t respond right away, instead taking a deep, shuddering breath as she seemed to steady herself.

"Did you mean what you said? Last night?" she asked with apprehension. Erik drew her closer and pressed his forehead to hers intimately.

"Every word." And he wasn’t lying. He truly did mean it.

"I want to hear you say it again," she whispered as she ran her hands along his chest.

"I love you."

He felt her smile. "I never thought I would hear those words. Not how you’re saying them."

Erik wasn't sure how to respond. Her words made his chest ache in sympathy.

"I suppose you should know that I love you, too," she snaked her arms around his ribs and drew herself closer. A warmth Erik had never felt spread through his body as he tried to close a space between them that wasn't there.

He believed her. He was doomed; he knew it and was completely okay with it. Because for the first time in six years, he was truly happy.

* * *

Erik and Leliana hadn't come out of their rooms yet. It was two hours before noon, what in the world could they be doing?

"They need to be here. We need to have everyone try their outfits, and there isn't much time to prepare and plan today," Josephine quietly panicked.

"I'll grab them," Dorian said as he stood from his seat, "Sister Leliana's room is third on the left, correct?"

Josephine nodded. "And Erik is staying next to you."

Dorian waved his hand as he climbed the stairs. A minute passed. Then two. Then the Tevinter mage came back down the stairs.

"I'm afraid whatever we have planned will have to wait a bit. Both of them are a bit preoccupied at the moment," he declared with a face of silent laughter.

"You're joking, right? They're _preoccupied_? What is more important than the future of the most powerful nation in the world?"

"No no no, my dear Josephine," Dorian laughed, "I'm afraid you misunderstand me. They're preoccupied _with each other_. I wouldn't go in there if the Archon himself ordered me on pain of death."

An awkward silence fell over the Inner Circle. Josephine blushed deeply. Dorian, for one, looked quite pleased with himself.

"Wait," Evelyn held up her hand, "If you didn't see them, how are you sure they're... you know?"

Dorian raised an eyebrow at her. "My dear Inquisitor, I have ears. They aren’t being exactly quiet."

Evelyn felt her face go red, and they didn't talk about the subject again.

Two hours later, Erik and Leliana finally came downstairs. Both were clean and unsuspecting, the only indication that anything had happened being their closeness. Their hands were interlaced and they leaned into each other slightly as they walked. As the pair got closer, Evelyn saw both of them were slightly flushed, as well, though from the heat of a bath or something else she couldn't say.

They sat together as lunch was served and deftly avoided the awkward glances they were receiving.

Vivienne was the first to snap. "Really, my dears, today of all days, you decide to delay our meeting? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I was actually happy for the first time in six years and wanted to share it."

"You realize that we have less time to plan for this assassin now, correct?”

Erik merely shrugged. “Worth it.”

“Enough. We need to discuss how we’re going to approach things at the Winter Palace,” Evelyn snapped, putting an end to the bickering over her brother’s private life.

“Indeed,” Josephine nodded, turning toward Erik, “What can you tell us about the players we will be facing at the palace?”

Erik gave Josephine a wilting look. “You guys are relying _way_ too much on my foreknowledge.”

Josephine blinked. “I only thought that –”

“You thought that I knew more than you do,” he cut her off, “That’s not necessarily the case. I just know things you probably don’t.”

“The three main players are Empress Celene, Grand Duke Gaspard, and Ambassador Briala,” Leliana took the reins, “As well as Grand Duchess Florianne, who organized the peace talks in the first place.”

 _Now we’re getting somewhere_ , Evelyn thought. “Alright. Let’s start with the Empress. What can you tell me about her?”

“Celene ascended the throne at age sixteen after her uncle, Florian I, died in 9:20 Dragon,” Josephine explained.

“Her uncle? Why didn’t one of Florian’s children become the emperor instead?” Isabela asked.

Vivienne clicked her tongue. “And _there_ is the root of the problem. Gaspard was heir apparent. Through careful political maneuvering and very extensive knowledge of the Game, Celene won the Council of Heralds over, and they crowned her empress.”

“You’re going to have to explain the Council of Heralds to us little people,” Sera grunted.

“It’s a council of nobles that settles inheritance disputes. That includes naming the next ruler of Orlais,” Erik explained.

Leliana nodded. “The political state in Orlais has been tense ever since then. There are many in the Empire that feel Celene’s rule has been illegitimate.”

“What has she done for Orlais as a ruler?” Evelyn pressed. She didn’t give a shit about her political maneuverings. She cared about what Celene has done for her people.

“Celene’s rule has been a kind of cultural resurgence. She’s supported education and the arts fairly extensively,” Josephine explained, “In particular, the University of Orlais and the Grande Royeaux theater owe much of their current reputation to her rule.”

“How so?”

“Before Celene's ascension to the throne, the University of Orlais was severely stifled by Chantry limitations and served mostly as a place for the younger children of lesser nobility. After Celene was crowned empress, she announced her intention to study at the university herself. She also arranged to lessen the Chantry's restriction on theological studies,” Vivienne spoke.

“Indeed. The University of Orlais is now one of the most prestigious institutions in Thedas, respected even in my home country,” Dorian pointed out, “Its studies on nature, magic, history, and the arts have attracted nobles from several nations. Noble blood is currently required for entry, though Celene has been urging the University to accept even elves if properly sponsored by a noble, as far as I’m aware.” “Celene similarly lifted all restrictions on the Grande Royeaux. She says that artistic freedoms should not be constrained by worldly concerns,” Leliana added.

“So she’s been good for education and the arts. Anything else?” Evelyn asked.

“She had the alienage in Halamshiral burned to the ground to cover up her political mistakes,” Erik grunted.

Josephine took in a sharp breath and Evelyn’s eyes blew wide open. “Explain.”

“Celene had a lover. Ambassador Briala, specifically,” Erik explained, “That wouldn’t be a problem, except that Briala is an elf. Gaspard started to expose this, and there were murmurs that she was being too soft on the elves. There was a rebellion in the Halamshiral alienage over mistreatment by the nobility, and while Celene sent Briala to assassinate the noble responsible, she also sent troops to quell the rebellion to show she wasn’t being soft on the elves.”

“Sweet Maker,” Evelyn murmured. The chaos of the situation was too much. She glanced over at Cullen and he discreetly took her hand in his. The small act alleviated some of the stress she felt.

“That’s not all. Briala failed to kill the noble responsible. Celene then disowned her as a friend, spymaster, and lover. It drove a permanent wedge between the two,” Leliana added, “Which leads us to our second player at the Winter Palace.”

“Briala,” Evelyn stated, “Give me what you have on her.”

“She and her family worked for the Valmonts for years,” Evelyn’s Spymaster started, “She’s the only survivor of a massacre of every servant in the employ of the Valmonts. That includes her parents. As Erik explained, Celene and Briala were lovers for years, until Celene tossed her aside to cover her political stumbles.”

“I’m assuming Briala wasn’t happy about that,” Evelyn dryly mused.

“You would be correct,” she said a little too happily, “Since then, Briala has been gathering an underground army of elves working for the nobles of Orlais. I’m not entirely sure what she wants, however. Maybe Erik can shed more light on it.”

“She wants more rights for the elves,” Erik explained, “Her ultimate goal is to elevate an elf to nobility, or at least to a position of power so elves can have more rights. She’s been harassing both sides of the civil war. Gaspard is going to warn you about her.”

“Which brings us to Gaspard,” Cullen took over, “Arguably the most proficient military commander of the Age.”

“Well, we know what he wants,” Evelyn assumed, “The throne.”

“Yes, and he isn’t afraid to use underhanded tactics to get it,” the Commander pointed out, “Be that as it may, he’s a shrewd player of the Game and a staunch ally to those who support him. If we want to secure an alliance with Orlais, having Gaspard in power will be the best bet.”

“I’m not making a decision quite yet,” Evelyn shook her head, “There are too many factors at play, and we don’t even know who the assassin is.” She turned to Erik at that point and raised an eyebrow. She was willing to bet her life that he knew who was working for Corypheus.

“I won’t tell you who the assassin is. If we tip them off, they could merely flee or reschedule. We need the Venatori to get as close to springing their trap as possible so their plot is put in the ground permanently,” Erik refused.

Evelyn nodded. It made sense, in a twisted manner. It would be nice to identify the assassin in the planning stages, but knowing their identity could tip them off in any number of ways. The Inquisition needed to keep as low a profile as possible.

“We have three days to identify and apprehend the assassin,” Solas pointed out, “Plenty of time.”

“Agreed. Anything else?” Evelyn looked around the table. Erik nodded once.

“You and the advisors need to speak to me. Alone.” He stood from the table, his lover following close to his side. Josephine looked at Evelyn nervously and stood from the table, followed by Cullen and Evelyn. They followed Erik and Leliana to an isolated room that appeared to be a broom closet. Once the five of them were all stuffed into the small room, Evelyn shut the door.

“Ward the room. I don’t want anyone eavesdropping,” her brother told her. She raised an eyebrow but complied, and after a quick spell, the room was soundproofed.

“What’s this about, Erik?” Evelyn asked in a slightly irritated tone. She didn’t like when he pulled them aside to inform them of things last minute. It made her feel like he was withholding information from them.

He sighed. “This has nothing to do with the assassination. I’m going to inform you of my plans at the Winter Palace.”

“I wasn’t aware you had ulterior motives,” Leliana mused.

“I always have ulterior motives,” he mumbled, “Since Haven fell my ultimate goal has not been the defeat of Corypheus.”

“Why would it not be? He’s the biggest threat to the world in three ages,” Cullen pointed out incredulously. Evelyn had to agree. What was Erik thinking?

Her brother merely shook his head. “Corypheus would have been defeated even if I didn’t get dragged here. I’m planning for the future. The goal I’ve set for myself at the Winter Palace is my first move in a chess game against the abyss.”

“You need to be more specific,” Josephine pointed out, “You have a habit of being incredibly vague.”

“This is different,” Erik protested, “If I fuck this up, I might kill everyone.”

An oppressive silence fell over the broom closet. The silencing spell did not help matters, instead exacerbating the lack of sound by absorbing anything ambient until all that could be heard was the blood rushing in her ears and her own breathing.

“What do you mean? Everyone at the Winter Palace?” Cullen asked as though he already knew the answer.

Erik didn’t confirm or deny anything. “Do any of you know the word ‘eluvian’?”

Evelyn blinked. “No. It sounds elven. Is it important?”

“It’s going to be extremely important in a little bit,” he nodded, “An eluvian is an ancient elven artifact. A magic mirror. It connects to an entire network of mirrors just like it. By walking into one, you can travel to any other eluvian regardless of where it is, so long as you know which one it is in the network.”

“How do you know this?” Leliana asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, earning a frown from the Orlesian, “What matters is they’ve become increasingly more prominent over the years. Morrigan went after one the first time Aedan Cousland vanished. She and Cousland went through it, and she kept the mirror. Merrill, Hawke and Izzy’s friend, has one, as well; she’s been fixing it for the better part of a decade.”

“This is fascinating on an academic level, but what does it have to do with the peace talks?” Evelyn asked, slightly irritated.

“Briala is in control of a portion of the network,” Erik revealed, “I intend to take it from her before S– outside parties get ahold of it and make our lives that much more difficult.”

“Outside parties? The Qun?” Cullen asked. Evelyn glanced over at him. He was slightly pale and a bit too still. This was not a conversation he was enjoying; she supposed it made sense, given his timidness with magic.

“Worse. A threat so incomprehensibly dangerous that I wouldn’t even be able to explain it to you without us being in here the rest of the day,” Erik huffed.

“This is no-fail for me, and I’ll be doing this alone. I don’t want anyone else to help me from the Inquisition. You all need to focus on the assassin,” he continued.

“Are you sure?” Josephine pressed, “Solas is quite well-versed in obscure magics. We could – ”

“Absolutely not,” Erik cut her off with force, “Solas is not to be trusted. I’m keeping an eye on him for the time being. As we get closer to Corypheus’s defeat, I’m going to monitor him more. Out of everyone, he is the one that _cannot_ know I’m trying to take control of the eluvian network.”

Evelyn was shocked at his insistence. Solas may have had a questionable backstory, true, but he always seemed unassuming. Kind and friendly, even. For Erik to be so insistent that Solas, of all people, was kept from knowing about Erik’s plan, made her worry.

“Why? What has he done that would have you keep this from him? Surely he would help,” Leliana pried.

“That’s exactly the problem. He would try to help.”

* * *

Erik elected to stay in Leliana’s room that night. As they bathed and prepared for bed, he noticed she was watching him strangely after she changed into her sleeping chemise. He raised an eyebrow in question and she studied him intently for a minute before speaking.

“You mentioned a chess game with the abyss. What did you mean by that?” she asked in an almost monotone.

Erik sighed and sat down on the bed next to her. “Corypheus is only the start of something bigger. Much, much bigger.”

“The other Magisters Sidereal?” she pressed.

Erik shook his head. “Worse, if you can imagine it.”

“Another Blight? Please tell me it isn’t another Blight.” He placed a hand on her leg lovingly.

“I can’t tell you right now. I promise, one day, I will. The Conclave set things in motion that cannot be undone. I’m doing my best to mitigate it, but it won’t be us that has to fight it.”

“Why?”

He thought for a very long time before he responded. So long, that she had crawled into bed. Erik felt a morose air fill the room as he crawled into bed next to his songbird and drew himself next to her.

“I wish all this had never happened,” she whispered. Erik kissed her shoulder and sat up slightly.

“So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide,” he quoted, “All that we have to decide is what to do with the time we are given.”

She turned slightly and gave him a sidelong glance. “That sounds like a quote. Who said that?”

“Gandalf the Grey,” he shrugged.

“And who is Gandalf the Grey?”

“Remind me when the peace talks are over to show you The Lord of the Rings. I’m pretty sure I have it on my phone.”

Erik was given his clothes for the first night the following day. He sat in a room with Dorian, Varric, Blackwall, Bull, Cullen, and Solas as they all threw their dress uniforms on.

To be honest, the uniforms turned out great. They were still in the same militaristic style as the terrifying ‘Nutcracker uniform’, but in black and silver with gold highlights. Erik looked at himself in the full-length mirror and nodded in approval. It was tailored to his figure, not a single square of extra fabric to be seen.

“My, my,” Dorian drawled as he gave Erik a once-over, “You look rather dashing in that if I do say so myself.”

“Speak for yourself,” he tossed back. As playful as he sounded, he wasn’t joking. Dorian was definitely going to turn a few heads when they entered the palace. The colors matched him so perfectly that Erik felt a pang of envy run through him.

“Don’t give Sparkler the ego boost. It’s already too high as it is,” Varric called across the room.

“This jacket needs to be let out at the back. It’s going to tear,” Cullen whined. Erik turned and looked at him. He didn’t know what he was talking about. Letting the shoulders or the back out would ruin what he had going for him, namely, the body of an NFL player.

“Cullen, it’s fine. If Bull’s jacket hasn’t torn, yours won’t, either,” Erik said, “Though I will say that Evelyn’s going to have a very hard time getting anything done once she sees you and her brain melts out her ears.”

He began to stammer and ran a hand across his neck like he was wont to do. Bull approached him with a raised eyebrow.

“I found this in your bag when you asked for those… cigarettes, you called them, right? Anyways, this was in there, too.” He handed Erik a dark green piece of wool. Erik unfolded it and smiled.

It was his beret. He’d always kept an extra on him when he was in garrison, just in case, and he’d completely forgot that he didn’t take this one out of his bag. He put it on his head and placed the flash over his left eye before dragging the dog ear down over his right eye and smoothing it out. The four-colored flash of 3 rd  Group was still crisp and clean, as was the unit crest pinned to it. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. This was all he needed to complete his ensemble.

“Are you trying to start a new fashion trend in Orlais, my dear Champion? Because this is how you start a new fashion trend,” Dorian eyed the beret curiously.

“They’d better not. They didn’t earn this like I did. This was the specific headwear for Special Forces. I went through hell to have the privilege of wearing this,” he reminisced.

“Well it works with the uniform, I’d have to say,” Blackwall noted, “Come. They’re probably waiting for us outside.”

They were indeed waiting for them outside. Every one of the women, save for Leliana and Josephine, were wearing the uniform. Hawke and Isabela weren’t wearing it, either, but they didn’t really count since they weren’t supposed to even be there.

Evelyn definitely stood out. The shining green sash that replaced the standard silver one clearly marked her as the Inquisitor. She had brought her lessons from her childhood out, as well, and was standing straight, not a hair out of place. Erik approached her and gave her a half-mocking salute.

“Inquisitor,” he greeted his sister with a smile. She saluted back.

“Champion. How do I look?”

“In charge. We ready to go?”

“More than ready. You’ll be riding in the advisors’ carriage with Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine,” she informed him.

“Well, that’s a treat,” he laughed, “And a stretch. I’m more of a troublemaker than an advisor.”

“Debatable,” a lilted, melodious voice said behind him. Erik turned around and his breath hitched.

Leliana looked absolutely stunning. She wore a black and silver gown, the same colors as everyone else, but she managed to make the colors her own. The dress had a high cut along her right thigh, showing almost enough leg to cause a scandal. Thigh-high lace snaked her way up her legs, and her feet were adorned with the most opulent yet simple shoes he had ever seen. The dress itself was sleeveless, held up only by thin silk straps; it was form-fitting around her waist and midsection and was cut low enough in the front to hint at her breasts without showing anything. He could see the back of her dress was cut low, as well, but how low he couldn’t tell. He physically ached by simply looking at her.

“Uh… Y – uhm…” he stammered out. Josephine laughed to Leliana’s right.

“I think you broke him,” she said. The Ambassador was adorned in a very Antivan dress. Similar to the ones she usually wore, it was once again in the black and silver they had decided on and shimmered with inlaid garnets and diamonds. Her skirt, instead of being split for riding, was more traditional, and was black all the way down to the hem, where a hint of silver embroidery danced above the ground. He didn’t even want to think about how much the outfit cost.

“You, uh, you look... amazing,” Erik managed to stammer out to Leliana. She blushed slightly and raked his body with a long, slow gaze.

“You cleaned up nicely yourself, Erik,” she mused, a hint of affection in her voice.

“Alright, my dears, we can admire each other later. We need to go,” Vivienne called out. They all headed toward their respective carriages. Erik helped Leliana in, and his breath caught once again when he noticed the dress cut down to the small of her back, her scars given to her by an Archdemon exposed to the world. It added a hint of ferocity to her look and made his thoughts muddy and confused.

Once they were all settled, she leaned slightly against him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. As the carriage began to move, she perked up suddenly.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” she reached toward her inner thigh, and Erik get own a small, predatory growl before he could stop himself. She smirked at him before drawing a stiletto and handing it to him, handle-first.

“Just in case,” she explained. Erik grabbed the dagger and placed it in his inner jacket pocket.

“I hope I’m not depriving you of your weapon,” he said apprehensively. She scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“Please. I have four more on me.” Erik was rather curious about where, exactly, she was keeping the remaining four. Perhaps his curiosity would be sated later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipqqEFoJPL4  
> So named because Celene is an arsonist lmao
> 
> Next three chapters are each going to detail a night of the peace talks, and then we'll have a wrap-up chapter before we get back to random bullshit.


	30. Queen of the Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Palace, part one.

Their entourage stepped out of their carriages and was immediately met with Herah’s company acting as their Honor Guard. Evelyn had insisted that she and the Dalish man from Clan Lavellan that acted as her second in command were visible for the nobles just inside the gates of the palace. A risky move, true, but she wasn’t too worried about upsetting the court’s delicate leanings; she was already a mage, so she wasn’t getting any points on that end.

Cullen tapped the small of her back and subtly nodded toward a bald man in a silver half-mask. The buzzed hair on the top of his head was graying, likely from both age and stress. He held himself comfortably, his hands drawn behind his back in a very militaristic pose. He nodded and gave a wide grin as they all approached.

"Inquisitor Trevelyan," Grand Duke Gaspard strode toward her and they shook hands in a very business-like manner, "We meet at last. Bringing the Rebel Mages into the ranks of your army was a _brilliant_ move. And sending the Champion to raid Therinfal Redoubt was absolutely devious. Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais?"

Evelyn smiled knowingly. “And which one is that, may I ask? Orlesian politics are rather… confusing to me.”

He laughed, and Evelyn had to work to tell the laugh was fake and strained. “If we keep watch, he may appear. Probably by the brandy,” then he became serious, “I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I'll help you.”

She wasn’t sure she could believe him. They were, after all, about to walk into a palace full of Orlesian nobles. She would rather walk into the Archon’s court in Minrathous and declare herself elf-blooded. “My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper They will be telling stories of this into the next age."

She nodded graciously and they headed into the courtyard. “I can’t imagine the crowd has seen anything better in their lives.”

He laughed. “I’m sure that’s true. As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could undertake this evening. This elven woman, Briala – I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found these 'ambassadors' all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes."

Evelyn merely nodded and smiled. Erik had already warned her about this, and she doubted Gaspard would be alone in questionable acts in this pit of vipers. But until she had proof, it was all nods and smiles. “Tell me more about this woman, if you’d be so kind.”

"That 'ambassador,' Briala, used to be a servant of Celene's. That is until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the empire to cover up a political mistake. If anyone in this room wishes Celene harm, Inquisitor, it's that elf. She certainly has reason enough," he sighed and looked around, his voice dropping in volume before continuing, "Be as discreet as possible. I _detest_ the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains."

 _Sure, you detest it, but you play it as well as anyone here,_ she thought in frustration. Her face, however, betrayed nothing as she nodded her thanks and he left. Evelyn wandered the courtyard for a bit, gathering shocked looks from some of the nobility who had never met her . She picked up some small amounts of gossip and secrets, but nothing so scathing and damaging that it would prove useful. She rounded a corner to find Erik, Dorian, Hawke, and Isabela all chugging glasses of sparkling white wine as though they were soldiers… well, she supposed Erik _was_ a soldier, but it was still no excuse. She shot her brother a scathing look and he met it with a slightly bored look.

“Please. One drink won’t do anything to me. I’m offended you think so little of my ability to drink like a fish,” he said emotionlessly. Evelyn merely rolled her eyes and moved on.

Josephine met her just inside the entrance to the palace. "Inquisitor, a moment, if you please?" She nodded and they stepped off into the shadows.

"I must warn you before you go inside: how you speak to the court is a matter of life and death. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture, is measured and evaluated for weakness."

Evelyn nodded. She knew about the game, she had been taught as much as she could by her parents before she went to the Circle. The politics in her prison honed her skills even further. "I'll keep my guard up, don't worry."

Josephine clearly wasn’t convinced. "The game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must _never_ reveal your cards. When you meet the empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you. You were safer with Corypheus and the Archdemon."

Evelyn gave her a look, letting her know that, no, she was in fact, _not_ safer with Corypheus. It must have been angrier than she’d anticipated because Josephine winced and drew back slightly. Evelyn sighed and decided to appease her Ambassador.

"It might be a good idea for the others to hear this warning. Especially Sera,” she thought for a moment, “Maybe tell her twice."

"I'll have a few… discreet words," she took a shaky breath, "Everything will be fine." Evelyn spied her brother walking toward them with Dorian and laughing about something, yet another full drink in hand.

“Erik, what number drink is that?” she asked. Josephine’s eyes filled with dread and she turned around just as Leliana appeared with a slightly amused look to her left.

Erik looked down at his drink in thought. “Six, I think. Seven, if you count the glass of whiskey we had back at the de Ghislain’s.”

“This is practically grape juice,” Dorian laughed, “At this rate, we won’t even be buzzed.”

Evelyn let out another bone-weary sigh as they all entered the Winter Palace. While they walked she heard Josephine shakily mutter, "Andraste watch over us all."

They all mingled for a bit before heading into the ballroom, mostly giving simple nods here and there. Erik was shockingly charming, his every move seemingly tailored to endear himself to the lords and ladies they met. Evelyn approached her brother as they were entering the ballroom.

“How are you so comfortable?” she hissed at him.

“Training in diplomacy back on Earth, mixed with the subtle art of not giving a fuck,” he whispered back, “I haven’t had this much fun at a formal gathering since that time at the Tunisian embassy.”

“Really?”

“No. Military balls are so much more fun. Hopefully, it’ll devolve into something that wild at some point,” he snickered.

Evelyn didn’t have time to respond because just then, the Master of Ceremony began to announce them. "And now, presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. And accompanying him..." Evelyn was trembling on the inside, but on the outside, she stood tall and resolute, just like she had every time she had to see her parents in the Circle.

"Lady Inquisitor Evelyn Michelle Trevelyan of the Ostwick Circle of Magi. Daughter of Bann Arthur Trevelyan of Ostwick. Vanquisher of the Rebel Mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground. Herald of the Blessed Andraste herself." Well, it seemed the Imperial Court was clearly one for fantastic works of fiction. Maybe they would be fans of Varric. She slowly walked down through the dance floor, deftly ignoring the blatant stares and wicked eyes trained on her.

Gaspard let out a snicker as they walked slowly forward. “Did you see their faces? Priceless,” he muttered under his breath. The Master of Ceremony continued.

"Accompanying the Inquisitor: 

“Staff Sergeant Erik Andersen of the United States’ 3rd Special Forces Group. Recipient of the Silver Star for Valor. Shepherd of the wayward Order of Templars, purger of the heretics from the ranks of the faithful.”

“He is _so_ full of it. That’s not how it went,” Evelyn heard Sera murmur.

“Smile, my dear,” Vivienne reminded the elf, “This is all for show.”

To finish with her brother, the Master of Ceremony added, “Traveler between worlds, sent Holy Andraste as her Champion and blessed with the Maker’s own foresight.” A whisper rippled through the court at that. Evelyn suppressed a grin and glanced over to the man in question. To her surprise, he was stoic and professional, standing tall and walking confidently as though no one else was in the building. Erik stopped next to her, his dark eyes sharp as knives. The announcements continued.

“Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, Mistress of the Duke of Ghislain.”

“The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company Bull’s Chargers… as the name might imply.” “Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin, Constable of the Grey. Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Valor.”

“Her Ladyship Mai Bhalsych of Korse,” Gaspard and Evelyn both had to stifle laughs at that one as the Master of Ceremony moved on.

“Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena -"

Cassandra completely broke etiquette and growled, “ _Get on with it._ ”

“…Pentaghast. Third cousin to the King of Nevarra, twice removed. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine.”

“Renowned author Varric Tethras,” there was actual applause at his announcement, “Head of noble House Tethras, Deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarven Merchants Guild.”

“Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel.” There were murmurs. _A Tevinter lord?_ _Here, in the Winter Palace?_ _The scandal!_ Evelyn thought facetiously to herself.

“The Lord Inquisitor’s elven serving-man, Solas.” Evelyn cringed inwardly at the announcement, but the apostate mage thought it best to be a simple servant for the night, and Evelyn had acquiesced.

“Lady Marian Jade Hawke of Kirkwall. Champion of Kirkwall. Slayer of the Arishok and Vanquisher of Meredith the Mad.” Gasps of true shock were heard throughout the palace as Hawke sauntered confidently across the dance floor. She shot a wink at an unsuspecting noblewoman near the balcony, who promptly collapsed in shock.

“Admiral Isabela de Seere of the dread Raiders of the Waking Sea.” More whispers of shock, though less abrupt or widespread than before.

“Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition,” Evelyn had to stop herself from getting another look at the Commander’s well-fit form, “Former Knight-Captain of Kirkwall.”

“Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine.”

“And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City, Ambassador of the Inquisition and former Ambassador of Antiva to the Imperial Court.”

The Empress met Evelyn and Gaspard at the end of the dance floor while their overly-large party dispersed. She gave a gracious bow, followed by Duke Gaspard. "Cousin. My dear sister,” he said to the woman to the Empress’s left. Evelyn studied Empress Celene. She was beginning to show signs of age, with crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes that not even her mask could hide. Her hair was a pale blonde and she wore a rich blue dress in the same color as the rest of the palace. She held herself with poise and authority as she gazed down at them.

"Grand Duke. We are always honored when your presence graces our court." The empress sounded gracious and calm, even though her enemy in the civil war was standing before her.

Gaspard, on the other hand, was having none of it. "Don't waste my time with pleasantries, Celene. We have business to conclude."

Celene graciously nodded. "We will meet for negotiations at the end of the reveries, and after we have seen to our other guests."

Gaspard turned to Evelyn and gave a gracious nod. “Inquisitor.” He walked off, leaving her before the Empress of the most powerful nation in the world.

"Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow me to present my cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible."

"What an unexpected pleasure," the Grand Duchess said with honeyed words that still somehow dripped with venom, "I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities. We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor." She withdrew before Evelyn could study her further.

"Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer's day," Celene continued poetically.

"I am delighted to be here, Your Majesty." She reminded herself that while she may not be the Emperor of Orlais, she was a woman of extraordinary political power. Like Leliana and Vivienne had reminded her, she and Celene were essentially equals in the grand scheme of things.

"We have heard much of your exploits, Inquisitor. They have made grand tales for long evenings. How do you find Halamshiral?"

Evelyn didn’t miss a beat. “It’s absolutely stunning, Your Majesty. Halamshiral holds many beauties, and I’m afraid my words would not be able to do them justice.”

She gave a smile that reached her eyes, and Evelyn noted that the empress had mastered the art of faking smiles. "You are too kind. We hope you will find time to take in some of its beauties. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance."

"Inquisitor. A word, when you have a moment." Leliana approached her. Evelyn followed her flowing form out into the vestibule.

"What did the duke say?" she asked as they sat down on a set of couches, Erik lounging slightly next to the Spymaster’s side.

"He points the finger at Ambassador Briala," Evelyn murmured. Erik shook his head.

“Try again,” he said with a hint of jovial humor.

Leliana nodded. "The ambassador is up to something, but she can't be our focus. The best place to strike at Celene is from her side," Leliana adjusted herself on the cushions next to Erik, no indication that the two were very obviously in love, "Empress Celene is fascinated by mysticism – foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead, things of that sort. She has an 'occult adviser'. An apostate who charmed the empress and key members of the court as if by magic."

Her face twisted. "I've had dealings with her in the past. She is ruthless and capable of anything."

Erik sighed and tipped his head back in frustration. “Morrigan isn’t responsible, Leliana.”

She was genuinely surprised. “You could have told me that.”

“I thought you would have looked at it pragmatically,” Erik leaned forward and dropped his voice, “Morrigan is in a good position. The only reason she’s even in the Imperial Court is that she needs somewhere safe for herself and her son while her husband is away. She wouldn’t risk her son’s safety. She loves that boy more than you could possibly imagine.”

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn held up a hand, “Explain since you somehow failed to inform us of this before. Who is Morrigan and how can Celene openly keep an apostate in the Imperial Court?"

“Morrigan is, currently, the arcane advisor to Empress Celene. The Imperial Court has always had an official position for a mage,” Leliana explained, “Before a few years ago, it was little better than court jester. Vivienne was the first to turn that appointment into a source of real political power. And when the Circles rebelled, technically every mage became an apostate. The word has lost much of its strength."

“As for who she is, she’s a woman from the Kocari Wilds,” Erik added, “She traveled with Leliana and the Hero of Ferelden during the Fifth Blight. When the Blight ended, she disappeared for a couple of years, then after she reappeared, she married Aedan Cousland. They have a son together who was conceived some time toward the end of the Blight.”

“You’re sure Morrigan truly cares about her son?” Leliana asked in contempt. Erik gave her a scathing look.

“Say what you will about Morrigan. Most of it is true. She’s manipulative, powerful, knowledgeable, and extremely dangerous. But she is not a bad mother. She’s a great one, in fact. I believe her exact words when she confronts Flemeth will be ‘I will never be the mother you were to me’.”

Leliana actually looked shocked at his words, and Evelyn decided to steer the conversation back on track.

“Erik, we’ll be speaking about this woman later,” she said, “That said, I highly doubt she would be the one we’re after. Still, it’s worth looking into why she has such an esteemed position in Celene’s court.”

"She's worth investigating,” Leliana agreed, “Can't be sure of anything here. Both leads point towards the guest wing. It's a promising place to start. I'll coordinate with our spies to see if I can find anything better. I will be in the ballroom if you need me."

Cassandra and Blackwall were decidedly _not_ enjoying themselves. Blackwall was being irritated by a noble who insisted he knew him from somewhere, and Cassandra simply hated the culture of nobility that they were surrounded by. Evelyn eavesdropped on some elven servants talking about a package in the guest wing, then found a halla statuette in the garden.

Solas was clearly a bit tipsy and enjoying himself. He suggested looking into the servants.

She met Josephine’s younger sister, a bubbly young woman a few years younger than Evelyn; she was actually shocked that the two were related considering that they were polar opposites. Leliana apparently had a bit of a shoe obsession, though she had learned that when the Orlesian had spent nearly a thousand Royals on different shoes in advance of her monthly paycheck.

Poor Cullen was surrounded by admirers. "Are you married, Commander?" a woman fluttering a fan asked him. A pang of jealousy shot through Evelyn and she swept toward the stressed-looking Fereldan.

“... Not yet, no.” The woman hummed happily. Cullen looked at her like a cornered animal as she approached.

"Inquisitor. Did you need something?" he glanced over his shoulder at the group, "The sooner we track down this infiltrator, the better."

"You've attracted quite a following. Who are all these people?" she jokingly asked as she rubbed small circles into his back. It worked to relax him a bit, though he still looked tense. It also worked to turn away some of the nobles surrounding him.

"I don't know, but they won't leave me alone,” he said like an upset child.

"Not enjoying the attention, then?" Evelyn smiled, slightly worried at his reaction.

He coughed. “Not particularly, no.”

“Even if it was _my_ attention?” she flirted. It worked to make his face as red as her hair and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I would… view your attention a bit different than theirs,” he admitted. Evelyn felt a slight wave of relief wash over her, followed by a warmth in her chest.

She rubbed him affectionately on the shoulder. “I’ll send someone to get you out of here. Stay strong.”

“Our soldiers are in place,” he whispered, “Just give the word.”

Evelyn nodded professionally and returned to her mingling.

* * *

“He’s not happy with his position here,” Erik guessed as he eyed the nobleman in the garden who looked unhappy to be speaking to a pretty noblewoman.

“You think so? Maybe the woman’s just droll,” Dorian mused next to him.

Erik shook his head. “She’s pretty, and he’s a bit drunk. His dick started to take care of the thinking twenty minutes ago. He’s got something else on his mind that he needs to mull over before the next glass of wine lets his dick sit in the drivers’ seat for the rest of the night.”

“My, you _are_ a perceptive one,” Dorian mused, “Though I think it may take more than one glass to get him there.” Erik didn’t respond, and his Tevinter friend pointed out another noble speaking in a circle.

“Sexual deviant,” the Altus declared. Erik raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think that’s his secret?”

“Come now, my dear Champion. This is Orlais; everyone here is a deviant. Besides, his entire demeanor is screaming ‘shit on my chest’.”

Erik belted out a laugh at the image that his mind conjured up, attracting his sister’s attention.

"This is all so familiar. I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners," Dorian mused as Evelyn made her way toward them. The Tevinter took a civilized drink from his wine.

Erik laughed. "Is this how the elite of Tevinter would carry on?"

"You could almost mistake this for a soiree in the Imperium. The same double-dealing, elegant poison, canapés..." he giggled, "It's lacking only a few sacrificial slaves and some blood magic. But the night _is_ still young."

“What if your mother actually _were_ here?” Erik joked, “Where would we be then?”

"Short a mage, I expect. I'd be dragged out by my earlobe and chastised for my manners."

Erik smiled, imagining the image. “I'm having difficulty picturing that."

"Picture me a young boy of five years, then. She certainly always has."

“Are you gentlemen enjoying yourself?” Evelyn asked as she approached them.

“We are having a fantastic time,” Erik confirmed.

“Your dear brother here is quite the drinking companion. I need to make sure he and I drown ourselves in liquor more often,” Dorian said in his ever-present charismatic tone.

“I won’t say no to that. You’re too fun to decline,” he pushed himself into Dorian’s shoulder, causing the Altus to roll his eyes and smile.

Evelyn laughed and patted Erik on the back. "Try not to get too drunk."

Dorian sighed dejectedly. “You ask _so much_ of us.”

Erik was about to play off his friend’s quip when three young women in the Empress’s personal masks approached the three of them. Celene’s handmaidens stopped a respectable distance away. "My lord Champion. My Lady Inquisitor."

"May we have a word? It's very important."

"The empress has sent us with a message for you."

A bit overkill, sending all three of the empress’s handmaidens, Erik thought, but it was _so_ Orlais. Three of them for one message. Only in Orlais.

"I'm always honored to hear from Her Majesty," Evelyn spoke evenly.

"Oh, _she_ is the honored one, Inquisitor," the woman on the left said, making Erik cringe slightly at her tone. She needed to get better at the Game, and fast.

"Empress Celene is eager to assist the Herald of Andraste in her holy endeavor," the middle one continued.

"She will pledge her full support to the Inquisition as soon as the usurper Gaspard is defeated," the third said.

 _A bit of subtlety would have been nice_ , Erik thought dryly before speaking. "That's a generous offer."

The leftmost handmaiden nodded. "The empress believes wholeheartedly that the Inquisition is our best hope for peace in these difficult times."

"She looks forward to cementing a formal alliance."

"As soon as Gaspard is out of the way." They spoke like clockwork.

"But we have taken enough of your time, Inquisitor. We also have a message for you, Champion."

Erik blinked. “For me?”

The middle woman nodded. “Her Grace, Empress Celene, would like to speak with you.”

“Really? Whatever about, I wonder?” Dorian mused as he took another healthy sip of wine.

“Her Grace heard about the Champion of Andraste’s foresight and would like to speak to him about it,” the right one explained, “Empress Celene is fascinated with the more esoteric magics.”

Erik thought for a moment. Celene probably wanted a reading or something similar. He would be shocked if she weren’t worried about her future. Thinking about what she could want, he realized he probably couldn’t say she might get clapped at the end of the ball. Still, Erik also figured he also couldn’t deny a formal summons from the Empress of fucking Orlais, so he’d just have to let her down gently.

“It would be my honor to speak with Her Grace,” Erik nodded.

“Wonderful,” the left woman said, “If you’ll just follow us.” They turned around, and Erik caught Evelyn’s look of worry as he left.

They led him through the ballroom, where Erik met Leliana’s eyes briefly. He flashed her a quick look that clearly read ‘please help me’, but she merely raised an eyebrow as he passed. Erik let out a quiet, dejected breath as the empress’s handmaidens led him to a balcony. They gestured for him to cross the threshold and he obliged.

Celene was sitting on a pearly white couch drinking a small glass of tea. She wasn’t wearing her mask, and this close, Erik could see the odd grey hair in her bun and the lines of exhaustion marking what would be an otherwise beautiful face. He glanced around briefly and nearly stopped dead in his tracks.

Morrigan was standing behind the empress. She was arguably the most hauntingly beautiful woman he had ever seen, her jet hair pinned up and shining in the moonlight, a stark contrast against her porcelain skin. Her almost glowing yellow eyes were both unnerving and alluring, showing an amount of wit he didn’t even see on Solas as they seemed to stare right through him. _No wonder why Cousland was interested in her_ , Erik thought. He broke the witch’s gaze and gave a perfect, formal bow to the Empress.

“Your Grace.”

“Ah, Champion,” Celene greeted gently, “It is an honor to speak with you. Please, sit.”

“The honor is all mine, Your Grace,” he returned as he sat down. Erik took the offered tea and biscuits and relaxed slightly when he noted Celene’s posture.

“Close the balcony doors, and leave us,” the empress ordered her guards. They saluted and complied, and Celene only spoke when the doors were latched shut.

“I would assume you know why I summoned you,” she stated. Erik nodded and took a sip of his tea.

“I’ve been told you have an interest in divination, of which I suppose one could say I possess an odd form.” Erik ignored the wilting glare being thrown at him by Morrigan. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said that she was trying to turn him into a toad… then he remembered that she could actually do that.

“Precisely so,” Celene confirmed, “Many strange things are afoot, not least of all your sudden appearance from your world and the Inquisitor’s blessing from Andraste. I’ve called you here to ask about what you know.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “What, precisely, do you wish to know, Your Grace?”

“These peace talks. Will they succeed?”

Erik bit his lip in thought and drummed his fingers on his knee. Not very Game-friendly gestures, but he didn’t quite care just then. “They will succeed, yes. Though not all possible outcomes are favorable to you, I’m afraid.”

Celene looked confused. “Possible outcomes? What do you mean by that?”

“Time isn’t linear,” he explained, “There are multiple outcomes for these peace talks. Several are quite favorable to you. Others are less so, but all end in a stable Orlais.”

She sighed and sank back into the couch. “I suppose I can take solace in the fact that my country will remain whole and return to peace,” she spoke in a detached tone.

“Orlais will remain whole, yes. Though returning to peace is another question,” Erik warned.

“Are you saying that the civil war will continue?” Morrigan asked, speaking for the first time. Erik leveled a gaze at her.

“The civil war will end tonight, Morrigan,” the witch blinked in shock that he knew her name, “I’m talking about threats to Orlais.”

“Corypheus, you mean.”

“Him, and worse threats,” Erik thought, “Things I cannot speak of here. All I will say is that I fear the treatment of the elven people in Orlais will be a detriment to its continued prosperity in the future.”

“Why would you say that?” Celene asked, her voice gaining a slightly sharp edge.

“Because the elves will play a major role in the future of the world, Your Grace, and if they feel oppressed, their allegiance will no longer remain with the standing nations of Thedas,” Erik warned, “Dark things are moving. Corypheus is only the beginning. When he is defeated, do not allow Orlais to rest on its laurels.”

Celene didn’t respond for a moment, then she let out a small laugh.

“Your advice has helped to ease my fears some, though I must admit, I did expect something a bit more… prophetic,” she mused. An evil, evil thought popped into his head just then, and Erik decided to run with it.

“I can give you a real prophecy, Your Grace,” he offered. She gestured for him to continue, and Erik took a breath. Here’s hoping he didn’t fuck something up somehow by doing what he was about to do.

“One day, the magic will come back. All of it,” Erik spoke in a slightly monotone voice as he recited Sandal Feddic’s words, “Everyone will be just like they were.”

Celene began to squirm uncomfortably and even Morrigan looked slightly unnerved. He pressed on.

“The Shadows will part, and the Skies will open wide. When he rises, _everyone will see_.”

A heavy, oppressive silence covered the balcony when he finished. Neither woman moved a muscle.

“Consider that a warning about the future of Thedas,” Erik chose his words carefully, “With Your Grace’s permission, I believe I’ll take my leave; I’ve taken too much of your time already.”

Celene merely nodded, so Erik stood and gave another bow before turning on heel and leaving the balcony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed Cassandra's relation to the King of Nevarra. A fourteenth cousin nine times removed is so far removed in terms of blood relation that they wouldn't even be able to keep track of it. Also, threw in Sandal's prophecy at the end, because it creeps me out and I was looking for an excuse to squeeze it in somewhere.
> 
> Chapter is named for Queen of the Masquerade by Crimson Glory - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaBcKfc3cH8


	31. Soothsayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik tries to recreate the Council of Elrond. Evelyn plays politics and tries to decipher a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief mention of suicide.

Evelyn climbed down from the second-floor balcony as quickly as she could in the somewhat restricting uniform. She gave a silent nod of thanks to Dorian, who had managed to use his bombastic nature to spark a bit of a scene in the gardens. Her little escapade had proved fruitful; the room she had discovered almost certainly belonged to the arcane advisor, with ancient artifacts, grimoires, and alchemical ingredients strewn about. The missive from Celene to “Lady M” had only confirmed it for her, and she had moved on to another sealed room. She did not expect to find several dead bodies inside, their throats slit and stuffed haphazardly into the small room. Next to them, a packet of letters was sitting in the open. She opened them and skimmed over the notes quickly, knowing that her absence from the festivities would almost certainly be noticed. She mentally noted that the dead bodies in the room were Briala’s deed and moved on.

Evelyn was returning to the ballroom when she heard a smoky, rich, feminine voice ring out from behind her.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Evelyn turned to see who had called to her, and a pang of envy quickly darted through her mind. She was met with arguably the most exotically beautiful woman she had ever seen descending the stairs in a dark red velvet dress. Her entire being seemed to be a work in contrasts; she was unmasked, her raven black hair swept up and away from her porcelain skin. Her intelligent eyes were a bright yellow, and her irises were shaped like a cat’s, haunting and too inhuman for Evelyn to feel at ease. She could only assume the woman was Morrigan.

"The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the Faith,” she monologued with a smirk, “Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of _Blessed_ Andraste herself. What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?"

Evelyn smiled back, trying her best not to squirm under her almost predatory gaze. "We may never know. Courtly intrigues and all that."

"Such intrigues obscure much, but not all," she said before confirming Evelyn’s suspicions, "I am Morrigan. Some call me adviser to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane. You… have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow as we walked. "Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?"

"I don't know. Do we?" Evelyn asked, once again feeling extremely uncomfortable. It wasn’t just her piercing eyes. She could literally feel the magical energy from the woman, rippling off her like shining waves breaking against a shoreline. This Morrigan probably held the rawest power of any mage Evelyn had ever met.

The witch laughed. "You are being coy."

"I'm being careful."

"Not unwise, here of all places. Allow me to speak first, then,” she gestured soothingly, “Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor: a key found on the Tevinter's body. Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can."

Evelyn took the offered key and raised a questioning eyebrow at the witch. "You left Celene alone? Is that wise?"

"I must return to her anon, but she is safe enough..." Morrigan wrinkled her nose, "For the moment. 'Twould be a great fool who strikes at her in public, in front of all her court and the imperial guard."

"What's your interest in protecting Empress Celene? Are you her bodyguard?"

She laughed and gestured to her thin form. "Do I seem a bodyguard to you?" _No, but_ _you_ _probably could be, if I_ _can_ _feel_ _your_ _magic,_ Evelyn thought nervously.

"If anything were to happen to Celene, eyes would turn first to her 'occult adviser',” Morrigan continued with a sneer, “Even if they knew otherwise. There are sharks in the water, and I will _not_ fall prey to them. Not now, not ever."

Evelyn nodded slowly, trying to put the pieces all together. "Briala's people are whispering about disappearances in the servants' quarters. This key may lead there."

"The ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not?” the pale woman mused, “Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting."

 _Exciting is one way to put it_ , Evelyn thought to herself as she flowed back into the ballroom, finding Leliana and a slightly tipsy Erik standing noticeably close to one another.

She gave her brother a look and her Spymaster a short nod. “She’s not here to hurt Celene. In fact, she’s protecting her, and aiding us.”

Leliana blinked. “What?”

Evelyn nodded. “It’s in her own self-interest, as well as the interest of Thedas, she said.”

“Told you,” Erik mumbled, knocking back another glass of whiskey. Evelyn frowned and eyed the empty tumbler.

“Erik, how many of those have you had?”

“Just the whiskey, seven. I’ve had five glasses of wine since I’ve been here, and I had one or two back at the estate,” he said, more thinking out loud than responding.

“And you don’t think fourteen drinks is enough?” Leliana asked in a snappy tone.

“I have a very, very high alcohol tolerance. I’m barely feeling it right now,” he drawled in an exasperated tone.

“I suppose it’s for the best. You’re more cognizant than most of the people here,” Evelyn mused, “But that’s beside the point. I want to know how your meeting with the Empress went.”

Erik shrugged. “I think I scared her a bit.”

Leliana shot him a glare that could probably actually kill. “Why in the Maker’s name would you do that?”

“Tonight is when things start moving into place,” Erik murmured, his gaze slightly distant, “I needed to warn her.”

“Warn who?” a cheerful, feminine voice called from behind Evelyn. She turned to see Hawke saunter confidently up to their group.

“Erik scared the Empress,” Evelyn told the Champion of Kirkwall in an exhausted tone. Hawke raised an eyebrow.

“I saw you talking to her on the balcony. You were there for less than five minutes; how did you manage that?” she raised an eyebrow at Erik.

He studied the raven-haired Marcher for a moment, then sighed. “I told her Sandal’s Prophecy.” The ever-present smirk fell from Marian’s face, and her eyes widened slightly.

“What in Thedas made you think that was a good idea?” Hawke almost snapped, “You told her _Sandal’s Prophecy?_ ”

Leliana’s eyes darted between the two Champions. “Sandal? Bodhan Feddic’s son?”

Hawke looked at the Spymaster. “You know him?”

“He and his father traveled with our party during the Blight. Sandal was… strange.”

“You’ll have to fill me in,” Evelyn stopped the exchange, “Who is Sandal, and why is he strange?”

“Sandal Feddic is a dwarf,” Erik explained, “He traveled with Leliana, Morrigan, and the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight. He doesn’t say much other than ‘enchantment’, but he’s special.”

“How?”

“He’s a savant at enchantment,” Hawke explained, “I also saw the aftermath of him freezing an Ogre in the Deep Roads. None of us knew how he did it.”

“That sounds about right,” Leliana agreed, “When we stormed Fort Drakon we found him behind a mountain of darkspawn corpses and covered in blood. He acted like it was normal.”

“But that’s not the strangest thing about him,” Hawke sighed, leaning against the table next to Leliana, “The strangest things were what he said when he _didn’t_ say ‘enchantment’.”

“Those things being?” Evelyn pressed.

“He would ask for salamanders all the time. We think that’s how he made explosives,” she reminisced in a melancholy tone, “He would talk about some old lady with a scary laugh, which was creepy enough, but once he actually made me afraid.”

“What did he do?” Leliana asked, “Sandal is about as benign as anyone could be.”

“He gave a prophecy,” Hawke sighed, “I was at my desk, writing a letter to my sister in the Wardens. This was a year after the Arishok’s attack, so... 9:35 Dragon. He walked up to me, and I thought he was going to give me another enchanted stone. But then he started speaking, and I had never been more afraid in my life.”

“And? Care to share it with the rest of us?” Evelyn pressed, getting slightly frustrated. Hawke took a breath, but Erik grabbed her shoulder and shook his head.

“Not here. Back at the estate, where it’s more private,” he murmured. Hawke nodded once as the bell that signaled the end of the night’s festivities. Evelyn and her group began moving out of the palace.

“You had better tell us when we get back to the estate,” she growled, “This sounds important, and I’m not going to be kept in the dark on this.”

The Inner Circle sat around the table in the main hall, save for Solas, who had elected to spend his night in the Fade, and Cole, who was guaranteed to be around somewhere.

“Well? What was so important that you decided to cut into our sleep?” Varric asked in a somewhat irritated voice.

“Our _other_ illustrious Champion has something to tell us,” Hawke murmured grimly, eyeing Evelyn’s brother with nervous apprehension.

“That I do,” Erik agreed, “But before I explain exactly what I’m going to tell you, I need some things to happen.”

“Those things being?” Vivienne asked.

“Ward this room, Vivienne,” Evelyn ordered gently, “We don’t want anyone listening in.”

“Dorian, if you know of any way to keep this room hidden in the Fade, I’d appreciate that, too,” Erik added.

“Ward it from the Fade?” the Tevene mused, “The only reason you would want to do that is to keep it from a Somniari, a dreamer, and there are only two that I know of. That elf-blooded boy in Tevinter and…”

As Dorian trailed off, the pieces began to quickly fall into place for Evelyn. She quickly put together why Solas wasn’t with them, why Erik wanted to keep the room hidden from the Fade, and why her brother was acting all cloak-and-dagger among friends.

“Solas,” Cullen said aloud, “You want to keep this meeting from Solas.”

“He doesn’t trust the old elf,” Cole said, manifesting himself in the corner of the room and making everyone jump slightly, “The lost elf. He won’t share why. But he doesn’t trust him.”

“Is Solas a traitor?” Leliana asked her lover, her voice growing sharp.

“No,” Erik shook his head, “But he can’t know what we speak about here. He never can. I don’t know how much it would change things.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, though from Vivienne’s magic or general apprehension Evelyn couldn’t say. Dorian drew a small sigil on the table in front of him and murmured a word.

“Done,” he said, “Though if prying eyes are already here, I won’t be able to keep them out.”

“He went to bed five minutes ago,” Bull declared, “I doubt he’s found his way here yet. Now, tell us what this is about.”

Erik sighed and rubbed his eyes. “For those of you who I’ve revealed world-changing secrets to before, the same rules apply now. For those of you who weren’t, I’ll explain my conditions. If this goes beyond the Inner Circle, I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll make sure you don’t have an opportunity to spread things again.

“Now, let’s begin. This war is merely a prelude to something far bigger and far worse, and the pieces for the bigger conflict are being set at this ball. I have a goal for tonight that’s separate from what the rest of you are here for.”

“You don’t care about saving the Empress?” Josephine pressed in a slightly shocked tone.

“Saving the Empress doesn’t matter,” Evelyn sighed, “Erik has said that before. What matters is that Orlais is stable.”

“And if you do your jobs right, you guys can handle that. I don’t need to be there for that,” her brother leaned back in his chair lazily.

“So what’s your goal here, then, if you don’t care about how we handle this?” Bull asked. His tone made Evelyn think he was trying to get more information than Erik was willing to share.

Erik seemed to think so as well and gave a small smile. “Sorry, Bull. Can’t let this get back to the Qun.”

“Ah, shit,” Bull slapped the table playfully, “It was worth a shot.”

“My job here tonight is to make the world’s lives a little easier in the future,” Erik continued, “And to do that, I need to start warning people.”

“You’re being hopelessly vague, Champion,” Cassandra pushed, “We need details if you’re trying to warn us.”

“Erik, stop beating around the bush and tell us,” Evelyn sighed.

“‘One day, the magic will come back. All of it,’” Hawke spoke, “‘Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide.’”

“‘When he rises, _everyone will see_ ,’” Erik finished, “I said those words to Empress Celene tonight when she summoned me. It was a prophecy told to Hawke by the dwarf Sandal Feddic several years ago.”

“It merely served to scare the living shit out of me and his father at the time,” Hawke mused, “Though if Erik is using it to scare other people, too, it must have some bigger meaning behind it.”

“Wait, _Sandal_ said that? Innocent, enchantment-making Sandal?” Varric guffawed, “What does that even mean?”

“And who’s Sandal?” Sera added.

“Sandal Feddic is a dwarf that traveled with Aedan Cousland during the Blight. Afterward, his father came into Marian’s service for several years. He has an unparalleled affinity for making enchantments, but he’s special. In my world, he probably would have been diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum. That doesn’t mean he’s not brilliant, he’s just… different.”

“He would say other strange things, too, on occasion,” Isabela added, “Once, he kept ranting about how the old lady was scary, and she had a scary laugh. His father, Hawke, and I thought he was having nightmares, but in retrospect, it was probably something more.”

“I remember you two talking about that,” Varric spoke up, “But what could that have been referring to?”

“Flemeth,” Erik explained, “The prevailing theory in my world is that he was visited on multiple occasions by Flemeth.”

“Flemeth is a legend,” Vivienne scoffed.

“A legend that has a daughter running around the Winter Palace,” Leliana rebutted with no little amount of venom, “Trust me, I should know. Aedan Cousland and I killed her during the Blight.”

“Doesn’t seem like you did a very good job of it,” Sera pointed out.

“Flemeth is functionally immortal,” Erik explained, “They definitely killed her. I saw it in my world. She just doesn’t stay dead. The question in that regard is why Flemeth was visiting Sandal.”

“We’re getting off track here,” Cullen interjected, “This conversation seems to be focusing on this ‘prophecy’. We need to analyze this, since Erik is purposely cryptic.”

Evelyn glanced at her brother, who merely shrugged acceptance. She rolled her eyes and glanced around the table.

“I’ve started my very own Council of Elrond,” Erik laughed, “Go ahead and dissect my words.”

Evelyn brushed his odd comment aside and thought for a moment. “‘One day, the magic will come back. All of it,’” she quoted, “Solas once said to me that the Veil didn’t always exist in Thedas, and that magic was much more powerful before the creation of the Veil.”

“And that line, ‘The shadows will part and the skies will open wide’ has happened, in a sense,” Dorian added, “Look at what happened with the Breach.”

“I do not believe that there was a time before the Veil,” Cassandra resolutely declared, “The Chant teaches-”

“We’ve already established the Chant of Light has been wrong before,” Evelyn cut her off, “Look at the Black City.”

“Back to the Breach,” Hawke redirected diplomatically, “I agree that it sounds like that line of this little prophecy has already happened, but the way Erik is speaking of it, it seems like these are things that haven’t happened yet. Maybe something worse will happen with ‘the skies opening wide’?”

“What about everyone being like they were?” Bull asked, turning his eye toward Erik, “That line doesn’t make sense to me.”

Erik threw his hands up. “Don’t look at me. I’m almost as clueless as you are.”

“I’m more concerned with who ‘he’ is,” Cullen pointed out, “Everyone seeing ‘his’ rise sounds rather ominous to me.”

“Erik? Have anything to say?” Leliana asked.

He sighed. “I’m ninety-five percent sure I know who that line is referring to,” Erik said slowly.

“Is it someone we know? Or know of, at least?” Evelyn asked worriedly.

“Not in the way you think.”

The implication of that hit like a ton of bricks. Erik knew. He absolutely knew, and he wouldn’t say; for what reason, she wasn’t sure, and it frustrated her to no end.

“I’m going to bed. I’ll explain more to you all when the time is right,” he grunted as he stood, “Feel free to discuss more if you wish, but I’m not saying anything else.”

* * *

Erik lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He could feel Leliana’s gaze on him to his left as her arm draped lazily over his chest, and it was making him extremely uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what to say to break the tension, and it was eating at him. And preventing him from going to sleep, or doing any other activities one might do in a bed with the person they loved.

“It’s an elf,” Leliana said quietly.

“What?” he glanced at her features in the dark.

“Whoever that prophecy is referring to,” she explained, “You’re going after a network of ancient Elven artifacts. You wanted to hide our meeting from Solas, an elf. The orb Corypheus used to create the Breach is Elven. Whoever you’re playing your chess game with the world against is an elf.”

Erik sighed. He should have known she would deduce at least part of what he’s trying to hide. She was too smart not to. It was attractive, sure, but it was also dangerous. He had to play his cards close to his chest, and he didn’t think this was a game of Spades. He didn’t know if he should have a partner in this that knew as much as he did. Not at this point.

“It’s Solas, isn’t it?” she whispered.

Erik remained silent. She shifted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. It began to feel wet moments later.

“You can lie to the others, but please don’t lie to me,” she practically begged, “I’ve had too much of that for one lifetime.”

Erik’s heart broke and threw the words out before his mind could catch up.

“Yes. It’s Solas.”

“Is he who he says he is?” she pressed.

“He isn’t telling the whole truth,” Erik confirmed, “I wish I could say more.”

“Why can’t you? I’m the spymaster. I know how to keep secrets.” Erik turned on his side to look at her directly, so that their faces were merely inches apart.

“Because it could make you a target,” he rationalized, “That man is more dangerous than you could possibly imagine.”

“I’ve dealt with impossible danger before,” she argued. Erik shook his head and ran his fingers through her hair.

“Not like this. No one in Thedas has seen anything like this for three thousand years or more. I just want to keep you safe. Evelyn, too. I really don’t give a shit about anyone else. But you two… Evelyn’s as close to a sister as I’ll ever have. And I’ve never cared about another person in my life as I’ve cared for you. If something were to happen to you, I think I might actually die.”

“Erik, I-”

“No, you don’t understand,” he continued, “My mother died of a disease when I was seventeen. I found my father’s body when he committed suicide from the pain of that loss. I joined the army to make a new family, and then I buried my friends and brothers. I lost my entire world. I can’t even go visit my parent’s graves or Isaac’s or Kamal’s or anyone else’s on Earth. I’ve barely been holding together over the years. Losing you would be too much.”

She was silent for a very long time after that. So long that he thought she’d gone to sleep. Then, finally, after nearly thirty minutes, and just as Erik began to drift into his dreams, his head pressed into her chest, she spoke.

“I’m not sure what I’d do if I lost you, either.”

* * *

Evelyn’s small group didn’t make it twenty feet into the servants’ chambers before finding several bodies.

"Caught in the middle of this crap. What fully qualified arsehole stops to kill a cook?" Sera was clearly disgusted.

Evelyn sighed and squatted down to examine the grisly scene. "Must be the elves Briala's people are looking for.”

"Whoever did this oughtta be down here somewhere," the Friend of Red Jenny said with gritted teeth. Evelyn glanced at her other two companions. Both Cassandra’s and Solas’s faces were macabre.

They continued through the servants' quarters only to find more corpses. Some of them could barely be considered adults at all. Sera was livid, as was everyone else in the group. Eventually, they reached the off-limits garden and found a body face-down in front of a fountain, a knife sticking out of his back. 

"This was no servant. What was he doing here?" Solas pondered.

Cassandra squatted down next to Evelyn, examining the knife. “The crest of the Chalons family. Duke Gaspard will answer for this."

Evelyn growled, growing frustrated with Orlesian politics. "Looks like we’ll have to have a word with the Duke, then."

Someone screamed. They spun around to see a man masked like a jester put a knife through yet another servant girl's heart; he spotted them and fled in a puff of smoke. Not ten seconds later, several Venatori ambushed them from all sides. Not wanting to make a scene, they relied on magic and blunt physical trauma to put down the Venatori agents. Sera darted through the assailants at nearly blinding speed, breaking limbs and incapacitating their foes left and right. Solas placed as many as he could in stasis while Cassandra snapped their necks and backs before moving on to their next target, and Evelyn was chaining lightning through each and every Venatori she could see. Eventually, they had killed or incapacitated every person that had come their way and moved on.

They killed three more groups of Venatori and found several more halla statues, using them to get a door open. When they opened it to find the royal vault, Evelyn looked around for a quick moment before she noticed a locket. Celene’s locket, given to her by Briala. It was clearly a gesture of romantic love. She pocketed it and they moved on.

Evelyn led the group as they rounded a corner and were suddenly faced with the masked assassin from before. Sera put an arrow through his eye, and he went down. Cassandra and Solas made quick work of the other Venatori before Evelyn heard the sickening, familiar thud of a dagger plunging into someone’s body. Her heart dropped as she spun to see the victim, praying it was not one of her friends that were the recipient of the wound. A Venatori agent was instead the target, with the dagger belonging to none of her friends.

An elven woman pulled the dagger from the Venatori, cleaning it off before concealing it. "Fancy meeting you here,” she gave a slight bow, "Inquisitor Trevelyan. I was surprised to get your message. We haven't been properly introduced, have we? I am Ambassador Briala."

She returned the cordial bow. "I'm glad to meet you finally, Ambassador."

Briala looked around at the carnage and smiled. "Your reputation for getting results is well deserved. You cleaned this place out. It will take a month to get all the Tevinter blood off the marble. At least.”

She leaned on the balcony doorway, her guard completely relaxed. "I came down to save or avenge my missing people, but you've beaten me to it. So..." she looked at the courtyard and did a double-take, "The Council of Herald's emissary in the courtyard… that's not your work, is it?"

"He was dead when I arrived."

"I expected as much," Briala noted with a shrug, "You may have arrived with the Grand Duke, but you don't seem to be doing his dirty work. I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers, but killing a council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace? Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight."

Evelyn wasn’t completely convinced it was Gaspard; after all, there was more than one de Chalons at the palace, but she kept her suspicions to herself. "The empress needs to know what's going on."

" _You_ can try to warn her. She won't believe anything from me. Regardless, you’d be an ally worth having. What could you do with an army of elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it."

Evelyn thought of the implications for a moment and grinned wryly. "You know how to make a pitch, Ambassador."

"I do, don't I? I know which way the wind is blowing. I'd bet a hefty sum of coin that you'll be part of these peace talks before the ball is over. And if you happen to lean a little bit our way?” she smiled, “It could prove advantageous to us both. Just a thought." Briala leaped over the edge of the balcony and vanished in the shadows.

"More politics and double-dealing," Cassandra said with disgust as they returned down the stairs, "Is there anyone here who is not corrupt?"

Evelyn grunted in agreement. She needed to have a word with Leliana.

They stashed our combat gear, changed, and parted ways. Evelyn wandered into a group of guards who seemed astonished to see her. "Is it true what they say? You're the Inquisitor, are you not? We've heard stories of your accomplishments."

Evelyn looked behind the men. They were in the way of a room she may or may not have been heading to investigate, so she gave them a dazzling smile. "I'd wager I have better tales than anything you've heard."

"I told you, Philippe."

"Not everyone fights an Archdemon and lives to tell. It's an inspiration,” one of the men said.

Evelyn winced inwardly. _Sorry, Cullen_. "If you'd like, Commander Cullen could give you all the details of that battle. He's in the ballroom."

"Really? But..." the man on the left looked around. "I shouldn't leave my post..."

"You'd only be gone a moment," she coaxed.

"Philippe. The world is coming to an end. If we don't hear this story now, we'll never have a chance."

The man sighed. "You're right. Thank you, Inquisitor. Let's go."

Evelyn waited until they were gone from eyesight and earshot and motioned to Sera as the Friend of Red Jenny passed by. The elf grinned and picked the lock. They entered a trophy hunting room and found Gaspard's orders to his Chevaliers. More dirt to deliver to Erik’s lady spymaster.

* * *

Erik spotted Briala returning from the gardens and nudged his lover. She glanced in the direction he was looking and raised an eyebrow.

“Watch my six, hottie,” he murmured to the Spymaster as he moved to where Briala was leaning against a railing on the balcony. Evelyn walked past him and toward Leliana with a raised eyebrow, and he gave a quick shake of his head. He passed Hawke and Isabela making some scene or another as they regaled shocked and enthralled nobles with a story from their Kirkwall days and gave Hawke a knowing wink. Discreetly glancing around him to ensure no one was tailing him, he sidled himself up next to the masked elf.

“Ambassador Briala,” Erik greeted cordially.

“Some call me that,” she glanced at him apprehensively, “And you must be Erik Andersen, the Champion of Andraste.”

“Some call me that,” he parroted, “Enjoying the festivities?”

She laughed. “I’m afraid I’ve been too busy with work to enjoy much of what the ball has had to offer,” she admitted, “And you?”

“I’m afraid I’m in the same position,” he nodded, “Though I’ve found enough small moments to make this a pleasant memory.”

“I’m glad one of us could say so,” she paused and turned fully toward him, “I get the feeling you haven’t come to me to socialize. So, what does the Inquisition want with me?”

Erik shook his head. “Nothing.”

He could see her eyes narrow through her mask. “I’ve been playing the Game for a very long time, Champion. Do not attempt to lie to me.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “I’m being honest. The Inquisition wants nothing from you… though I can’t promise things will remain that way forever.”

“Then what are you here for?” she pressed suspiciously.

“I have my own agenda here tonight,” Erik murmured, just loud enough for Briala to hear and no one else, “And it’s an agenda that I will see through to the end. You have something I want. No, that I need.”

“And why would I bargain with you for such an item?” she asked.

“Because it will tip the odds of survival in the rest of the world’s favor,” he explained bluntly. She blinked once in shock, then once more. Her easy guard slipped slightly, and Erik let himself have an inward grin. He had her curiosity, but now he had her attention.

“And what is so important that the survival of Thedas writ large rests upon it?” she asked, her accent getting slightly thicker, “Does Corypheus want this item?”

“He knows of it and will seek for one in a specific location. But this isn’t about him. This is about something far more sinister, and far greater a threat. So great that I won’t tell you what it is.”

“So something you have foreseen, then,” she nodded, “Very well. I will at least listen to your request.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “I would ask you to relinquish control of your Eluvian network to me so that our unseen enemy doesn’t take it from us both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. The brief hiatus I had was needed, not only because I needed to heal up but because I had to get into a better headspace. I'm at the point now where writing has become something that can be cathartic for my recovery so I'll be plinking away at this again. That said, this chapter was tough to write, mostly because I didn't know what to do with it and I don't remember a whole lot of the small details from the middle half of WEWH.
> 
> Chapter is named for Soothsayer by Buckethead - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adV8-_hgL4g  
> If you ignore all the other songs the other chapters are named for, I highly recommend you listen to this one. It's a beautiful instrumental from one of the most prolific guitarists in history.
> 
> Apologies if I miscategorized Sandal's condition in this chapter. I've always assumed he's had Savant Syndrome, which is fairly common among people on the autism spectrum.


	32. Ballroom Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn makes a decision. Erik makes a bold move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee, I broke 8,000 words with this one!
> 
> Warning: gratuitous violence.
> 
> The chapter draws heavily from pre-existing dialogue from the game, so once again, Dragon Age is owned by Bioware and EA, blah, blah, blah, I'm just a mega-nerd with testicular cancer.

"Inquisitor?"

Evelyn turned to see the grand duchess, dressed in a moth-like outfit and looking just a hair too comfortable. "We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party."

She had certainly been waiting for Evelyn, yet she smiled politely anyways. "Is there something I can do for you, Your Grace?"

"Indeed you can. I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of..." she dropped her voice. "A certain person?" People began approaching the ballroom floor to dance. "Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor."

Evelyn let out a silent prayer that she remembered her finishing classes from all those years ago. "Very well. Shall we dance, Your Grace?" she asked as she held out a hand.

The grand duchess took it with a smile that didn’t reach her masked eyes. "I'd be delighted."

The duo moved through the opening steps of the dance. _One step, two steps, left, bend the right knee._ "You are from the Free Marches, are you not? How much do you know about our little war?"

Evelyn decided to evade the question a bit. “I assure you, the effects of this war reach far beyond the borders of the Orlesian Empire.”

“Perhaps it does,” Florianne agreed.

_Shuffle forward, careful steps._

“I should not be surprised to find the empire is the center of everyone’s world,” she continued arrogantly, “It took great effort to arrange tonight’s negotiations, yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason.”

 _Two more steps. Turn toward each other,_ _bend_ _her torso toward_ _my_ _left foot._ Evelyn used the momentary break in eye contact to let herself have a small frown. Something was up with the Duchess.

"Do we both want that, Lady Florianne?" she asked as she rose back up.

"I hope we are of one mind on this.”

_Back and forth motions, touching of hands, careful steps._

"In times like these, it's hard to tell friend from foe, is it not, Your Grace?" Her mother’s insistence on drilling dancing lessons into her as a child had, for once, paid off; Evelyn hardly had to pay attention to her movements. Florianne, on the other hand, had her undivided attention, and her undivided suspicion.

"I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard. And have been everywhere in the palace..." _Right hand on her waist, clasp my left to her right-_ _wait._ _She’_ _s_ _been watching me._

"You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor,” Florianne added, unaware of her slip-up, “And a matter of concern to some."

"Am I the curiosity or the concern to you, Your Grace?"

 _Spin in gentle circles._ "A little of both, actually. This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it. Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe? Who in the court can be trusted?"

Evelyn gave the duchess a guarded smile. Florianne should have dressed as a spider, not a moth.“I trust the _Inquisition_ , Your Grace. Who do you trust?”

"In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone. It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight."

Certain parties, including her. "I thought 'dangerous machinations' were the national sport in Orlais." Evelyn dipped Florianne lower than anyone else on the dance floor, using just a hair of magic to hold her lithe body from the ground. A gasp of approval came from the nobility, followed by a round of applause.

"You have little time. The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes. In the Royal Wing garden, you will find the captain of my brother's mercenaries. He knows all of Gaspard's secrets. I'm sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming." They bowed as the dance ended.

"We'll see what the night has in store, won't we?" Evelyn gave as a final farewell. She strode off to find her entourage. _I never thought I’d be thinking this, but thank the Maker for my mother. That could have been a disaster_.

Josephine looked ready to jump through the roof with glee. "You'll be the talk of the court for months. We should take you dancing more often."

"Thank my mother for that one,” Evelyn laughed, “It's a relief to do something other than fight demons and horrors."

"You still face demons and horrors," Josephine corrected, her dark words not matching her gleeful face, "These ones are simply better dressed."

Cullen and Leliana approached. "Were you dancing with Duchess Florianne?" Leliana asked disbelievingly. Oh, boy. Did she screw up? Was she supposed to ask Cullen to dance?

Cullen, however, seemed not to care. "More importantly, what happened in the servants' quarters? I heard there was fighting."

"I hope you have good news," Josephine said apprehensively, glancing around. "It appears the peace talks are crumbling."

She turned to Leliana. "Morrigan helped me get into the servants quarters, where I found a group of Venatori. And Gaspard's dagger." Leliana seemed less than surprised by this news. Likely that either Erik or one of her agents informed her of the development.

"The man would truly do anything to become emperor," she nodded, though she didn’t seem to believe her own words.

"Then the attack on the empress will happen tonight," Cullen concluded. Evelyn mentally raised an eyebrow at him. He was smarter than he let on.

"Warning Celene is pointless," Josephine said, clearly frustrated, "She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would admit defeat."

"Then perhaps we should let her die." There was the cold, calculating side of Leliana. Evelyn was starting to think being with Erik had made her go soft. They all stared at Leliana as if she’d just said that they should cross the Veil and take a stroll through the Black City.

"You have an idea, Leliana?" Evelyn asked.

"What Corypheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen," Leliana shrugged, "To foil his plan, the empire must remain strong. Erik has stressed this every night we’ve been here, both to each of you and to me privately. This evening, someone must emerge victorious."

Cullen put the pieces together quickly. "And it doesn't need to be Celene. She's right.”

Josephine, however, always one for propriety, was horrified. "Do you realize what you're suggesting, Leliana?"

"Sometimes the best path is not the easiest one,” Leliana reasoned.

Evelyn thought for a very long moment about her options. She didn’t have enough blackmail to force an end to the war. She didn’t trust Gaspard much; he was a warmonger and a cunning player of the Game. Yet in all their interactions, not once did he seem to be dishonest. Arrogant, sure. Jaded? Absolutely. But never dishonest.

Celene, on the other hand, burned Halamshiral’s alienage to appease racist nobles. She’d let her empire crumble into civil war even when she had ample opportunity to stop it. And she let someone close to her manipulate the events in her court for Corypheus these past several days.

“What would it take to save Celene?” Evelyn asked Leliana.

"You would not only have to save her life but also her empire," Leliana said resolutely, crossing her arms and cocking her hips to the side.

"That means giving her a victory over both Gaspard and Briala." Josephine glanced at the Duke and Duchess, deep in some discussion with a handful of nobles in the corner of the ballroom. Evelyn spotted at least two members of the Council of Heralds among the group.

"If there truly is proof Gaspard's in league with Corypheus, that would be a start,” Cullen suggested.

"What did Duchess Florianne tell you?" Leliana asked.

 _More than enough to light my suspicions like a flare,_ Evelyn thought cynically. "She said Gaspard's mercenary captain is in the royal wing. That he knows about the assassination."

Cullen rolled his eyes. "Which could be a trap."

"Or a lead," Josephine suggested, "Either way, you should search the private quarters in that wing for clues."

"Then get me access,” Evelyn turned to Cullen, “And in the meantime, get your soldiers into position." He nodded."At once. Be careful, Inquisitor."

“Of course. When have I ever not?”

“I can count at least six times off the top of my head,” he shot back playfully.

Evelyn gave a bashful smile and turned to find the royal wing. She’d decided she would ask Cullen to dance at the end of all this. If he didn’t do it first.

Just as she entered the Vestibule, she saw her brother slip out the door on the far end of the room.

* * *

Erik was more than relieved. He was ecstatic. It didn’t take much to convince Briala to hand over the Eluvian passphrase to him. He just had to tell her that if she didn’t, the elves of Orlais would be manipulated by an even more ancient entity than Corypheus into working towards the destruction of the world and that he wasn’t certain if said entity would be successful.

He tried to recall where the Eluvian in _Trespasser_ was located. It was certainly to the left of the gardens and the entrance to the main hall of the palace. But the gate was closed, and there was absolutely no way he was getting over the gate without being detected. So he decided to jump the wall far to the right of the gate instead.

As soon as Erik hit the ground, he threw his right knee into his left and rolled. His feet, then his ankles, then calves, then buttocks, then side hit the ground, and he silently thanked his countless static-line jumps for the skill, even if the hundred-and-something jumps did destroy his knees. He jumped up, dusted himself off, and strolled through the blocked-off area without fear of detection; no one was around to catch him in this area.

He continued on for about a minute, trying desperately to rack his mind and find where the damned Eluvian was. He glanced to his right and did a double-take. There was a wooden lattice leading up to the second floor, and everything came flooding back to him.

“Gotcha, fucker,” he laughed. Erik trotted over and scaled the wall easily. To his surprise, the door was open, and there, in the light of the two moons, an inert Eluvian sat before him. He briefly thought it was a bit ridiculous to have the door unlocked and a priceless magical artifact with untold advantages just sitting in an unlocked room, but he shook his head at the thought soon after. To most everyone in the world, this was just a very finely made mirror.

But not to him.

He gazed into its inert, polished, and slightly bronzed face for a few moments and took in his features. Mirrors weren’t necessarily a common commodity, even in Skyhold, and so he hadn’t had the opportunity to see himself in months, especially since he hadn’t used his phone in some time. His hair had grown out and now reached past his jaw, and his beard was full but short and neatly trimmed, thanks to Leliana’s insistence. He’d lost a couple of pounds, too, though it was mostly excess fat. He blamed the radical shift in diet for that. His eyes, too, seemed different, and as he glanced closer, he noticed they were a slightly different shade of brown than before his arrival to Thedas.

Not wanting to have an existential crisis, he pushed the thought from his mind and took a deep breath.

“Fen'Harel enansal,” he spoke, reciting the passphrase given to him by Briala. To his surprise, the mirror immediately sprang to life, its bronzed, reflective face gone and replaced with a glowing, shimmering blue. He let out a breathy laugh and ran his fingers across the magical face; the eluvian responded with a chiming, shimmering sound, like running one’s fingers on a crystal glass’s lip.

The caw of a bird behind him broke him from his awed stare, and he spun around to find a lone raven gazing at him with intelligent eyes. _Too_ intelligent.

“Hello, Morrigan,” he greeted. The raven cocked its head and fluttered to the ground before him, then in a puff of smoke and a flash of light, the witch was standing before him with accusatory eyes.

“How did you know it was me?” she demanded.

“Ravens are smart, but your eyes were too smart,” he explained, “Plus this was too easy. I figured someone would come after me.”

“And what is your interest in the eluvian?” she pressed.

Erik shrugged. “I convinced Briala to give me ownership of it. It’s mine now.”

“Planning on taking a stroll through the Crossroads, are we?”

“More like planning on trying to figure out how to change the passphrase. Which I actually have no idea how to do, so it’s good you’re here,” he added.

“And what makes you think I will lend my aid?” she asked, crossing her arms.

"Because if you don’t, we’re all fucked,” he shot bluntly.

She studied his face for a moment, then scoffed. “Your tricks may have worked on the Empress, but I know better. Clairvoyance is but a myth.”

Erik shrugged. “Fine. Let Kieran and Aedan die. I’m sure that –”

He was pinned to the wall before he could finish his sentence, Morrigan’s hand outstretched and the unbridled fury of a mother in her eyes.

“How do you know I have a son?” she barked.

“I know a lot of things, Morrigan,” he replied, his voice eluding a calmness he absolutely did not feel.

“How much do you know about him?” she shot with a trembling voice. When he didn’t respond immediately, her fury grew, “Answer me!”

“Everything.”

Her magic’s hold on him relinquished and he fell unceremoniously. Morrigan took two steps back and slid down the opposite wall, her face one of shock and horror.

Then she began to cry.

“You have no idea what it is like,” she wailed into her hands, “To have a son that will never be a normal boy. To know there is something inside him that can never leave. He has these… these _spells_ , where I know it’s not my Kieran speaking to me. And he wakes in the night terrified more often than I would ever wish. I just want him to be happy. To be a normal boy, and for him to live a normal life. But he never will, because he has that _thing_ living in him.”

“Morrigan…” Erik tried to say, creeping slowly toward the inconsolable witch.

“The worse part is that I put it there. I, in all my ambition for power and my desire to save the love of my life, put that monster into my baby without hesitation. And I shall hate myself for it for the rest of my life,” she rambled, seemingly completely unaware that Erik was even in the room with her.

Erik let out a small grunt and sat next to Morrigan, thinking about what to say to her. Then something came to him.

“Would Aedan have let Alistair take the blow?” he asked, knowing Morrigan would understand what he meant.

She scoffed as though the idea was a bad joke. “I may love him, but Aedan is like a dog. Unflinchingly loyal to his friends and willing to step in harm’s way so his friends won’t need to. He would never have let that idiot Warden take the final strike against Urthemiel.”

Erik took a risk and put his hand on her shoulder. “So your options were to watch him die and raise a normal child who would never know a father, or to put Urthemiel’s soul into Kieran and save them both.”

“A normal child?” she blinked in shock.

“You were always going to have Kieran, Morrigan,” Erik explained softly, “Your relationship with Aedan sealed your fate there. Had you not done the ritual, you would have been alone and had to raise Kieran alone. And he would have always wondered what his father was like.”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes and the mascara that had run down her cheeks. “I am unsure whether that helped or made things worse.”

“Well, it got you to stop crying, so I’d say it helped,” he smiled as he stood, “Now help me permanently bind this thing and the rest of the eluvians in this branch tied to me and I’ll tell you something that will definitely help.”

She took a shaky breath and nodded, taking Erik’s offered hand. Together they walked to the still-shimmering eluvian and stood before it.

“Give me your hand,” she demanded. Erik outstretched his left hand and she drew a small knife from her waist; before Erik could even think about what was happening, Morrigan gripped his wrist and swiftly ran the blade across his palm. He suppressed a wince at the sudden sting of the open wound as blood began to pool in his palm.

“Press it to the face of the eluvian and think of a new passphrase,” she instructed, never letting go of his wrist. Erik raised an eyebrow at her.

“There is no surface right now. It’s a portal,” he said. She rolled her eyes and slammed his hand into the face of the mirror with more force than she needed to.

Erik blinked in shock when his hand didn’t pass through the shimmering face, but he quickly recovered and thought of something that he would never tell anyone else.

 _Annette Vagle._ His mother’s maiden name.

The Eluvian glowed slightly brighter before dimming to its ambient glow. Erik felt a tingling along his spine and a connection to… something he couldn’t describe. He took a deep breath in shock and stepped back while Morrigan healed the cut she had placed on his hand.

“There. No magic can override that spell. Not mine, not the Inquisitor’s, not the Elder One’s,” she said as she worked. Then she looked up at him and crossed her arms.

“Now tell me, what were you going to say?” she asked, a hint of anticipation in her voice.

Erik took a breath. “Kieran won’t have that thing in him forever. One day soon, it’ll leave him.”

He did not expect Morrigan to throw her arms around him and sob openly.

* * *

Sera passed Evelyn a couple of minutes later, discreetly handing off the key to the royal wing. She gathered her chosen party and they discreetly made their way toward the wing together.

Sera’s Friends had been leaving presents as they moved through the royal wing. Hopefully, that didn’t come back to bite the Inquisition, but she thought it was sort of funny that such a security oversight could happen in the most powerful empire in Thedas. Though security breaches were the reason they were there in the first place, she realized.

After the sixth room filled with clothes, Varric spoke up. "Room after room, and for what? Ruffle storage? Real useful."

A shriek rang out, and they rushed to the door, throwing it open. Another assassin dressed like the one they’d encountered the night before cornered an elven serving girl. Evelyn fade stepped across the room and put her boot into his chest with force, sending him out the window; Evelyn gained sick satisfaction hearing his chest crumple as he was thrown from the room.

The elven woman wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking herself back and forth. "Thank you."

Evelyn motioned for Solas to take care of her minor wounds while she took the girl’s hand. "Are you all right?"

"I'm..." The young woman sighed shakily, "I don't think I'm hurt. No one's supposed to be here..." Solas gave her a nod and Evelyn helped the elf to her feet.

"Briala said… I shouldn't have trusted her," the servant sighed with a defeated tone.

"Briala told you to come to this wing of the palace?" Cassandra bit out.

"Not personally,” she explained, “The 'ambassador' can't be seen talking to the servants. We get coded messages at certain locations. But the order came from her. She's been watching the Grand Duke all night. No surprise she wanted someone to search his sister's room."

"This wing is sealed. How did you get in here?" Dorian asked.

"Easy. The door was unlocked. One of the others probably handled it."

 _It wasn’t unlocked when we entered_ , Evelyn thought suspiciously. "It takes great courage to come to the royal wing unarmed."

She laughed. "It's not 'courage' to blindly follow Briala's orders into a trap. I knew her. Before. When she was Celene's _pet_ ,” she spat, “Now she wants to play revolution. But I remember. She was sleeping with the empress who purged our alienage."

And the other shoe dropped. "Would you be willing to testify to that, if I asked?"

"Absolutely. If... If the Inquisition will protect me, I'll tell you everything I know about our 'ambassador.'"

"Go to the ballroom," Evelyn suggested. "Find Commander Cullen. Tall human man with curly blonde hair, in Inquisition regalia. He'll keep you safe."

She nodded."Thank you. Maker protect you, Inquisitor."

They walked past an extremely ornate sealed door when Evelyn heard someone inside, clearly calling for help. Varric tossed her a few tiny halla statues that she used to unlock the door.

It was a man. Chained to the empress's bed. Naked except for a helmet. She was so confused that she turned to her companions, who were equally confused. Varric and Dorian were grinning wickedly. "What..." Naked, chained to the bed. "Happened?"

"It's not what it looks like," The man stuttered as he pulled at the restraints, "Honestly, I would have preferred if it were what it looks like. The empress led me to believe I would be..." he sighed, "Rewarded for betraying the grand duke. This… was not what I hoped for."

"You're telling me that Empress Celene left you naked and trussed like a roast duck?" Dorian laughed.

"Please, I beg you, don't tell Gaspard. The empress beguiled me. Into giving her information about… Plans for troop movements in the palace tonight. She knows everything. Everything. The duke's surprise attack has been countered before it ever began. She's turned it into a trap. The moment he strikes, she'll have him arrested for treason."

Cassandra was clearly flustered as she spoke. "I don't know which is worse: Celene for using such a tactic, or him for falling for it."

Evelyn sighed. "My name is Inquisitor Trevelyan. I'll protect you from Gaspard if you're willing to testify about Celene's trap."

"I'll do anything. Anything."

They picked the locks on the chains and the man made himself decent quickly, then scurried from the room.

The mark on her hand sparked involuntarily, and she froze and looked at her companions. There was a rift nearby.

They found it quickly; just follow the eerie green light. Cassandra kicked the door open and the four of them ran into a courtyard. There was indeed a rift. Below, there was a man tied to a post. On the walkway across the courtyard, archers stood at the ready. And Florianne was on the balcony above. "Inquisitor. What a pleasure. I wasn't certain you'd attend. You're such a challenge to read. I had no idea if you'd taken my bait," Florianne began to monologue.

Evelyn channeled energy into her hand, preparing to tear the archers’ bodies to pieces and send them to the Fade as she had done to the demons she and Erik had met in the cave. "I had a feeling you were mixed up in all this," she replied, delaying so that Solas could begin silently setting up barriers.

"Such a pity," Florianne declared grandly, "You could almost be Orlesian. If you were just a little quicker. It was kind of you to walk into my trap so willingly. I was so tired of your meddling. Corypheus insisted that the empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him."

"At this point, I'd think disappointment was an old friend for him,” she responded with venom.

"You poor, deluded thing. You don't know half of what Samson and I have planned,” the Grand Duchess said smugly, “And now, I suppose you never will. In their darkest dreams, no one imagines I would assassinate Celene myself. All I need is to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike. A pity you'll miss the rest of the ball, Inquisitor. They'll be talking of it for years." She made for the door; it was pointless to attack her.

"Kill her. Bring me the marked hand as proof. It will make a fine gift for the master." And then Florianne was gone.

Evelyn sighed and threw her hand up. The archers screamed in horror and unfathomable pain as flesh was torn from bone and bone was torn from sinew. There was nothing left of them as they were dragged against their wills into the world of spirits. Cassandra, Dorian, Varric, and Solas began to dispatch the demons that had crawled from the rift, and as soon as Evelyn had recovered from tearing the Veil, she sealed the rift before a second or third wave of demons could come through.

"Andraste's tits. What was all that?" the man on the ground sputtered. Varric moved to release his restraints, and the man stood, "Were those demons? There aren't any more blasted demons coming, right?

"Good eye! Those were definitely demons," Evelyn replied with snark, then mentally kicked herself. Hawke was rubbing off on her.

The man didn’t seem to catch her sarcasm. "Maker. I've never seen one that close before. I knew Gaspard was a bastard, but I didn't think he'd feed me to fucking horrors over a damned bill."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Duke Gaspard lured you out here?"

"Well, his sister, but it had to come from him, didn't it? All that garbage she was spewing doesn't mean anything. Gaspard had to be the mastermind," he rambled.

The guy was an idiot. That much was clear to Evelyn. Florianne had just monologued about her plan like a villain from one of Varric’s books, but this man still thought that Gaspard was behind it all. Still, even idiots could be useful.

"Your accent sounds Fereldan,” Evelyn noticed, “I thought you were one of Gaspard's mercenaries."

"Born and raised in Denerim. Seems like I should have stayed there. The duke wanted to move on the palace tonight. But he didn't have enough fancy chevaliers,” he sighed, “So he hired me and my men. He had to offer us triple our usual pay to come to Orlais. Stinking poncy cheesemongers."

Evelyn smiled, seeing an opportunity. "Want a new job? One that pays better? The Inquisition can always use a good mercenary company."

He laughed. "You hiring? I'm game. Anything's better than this bullshit. You want me to talk to the empress, or the court, or sing a blasted song in the Chantry, I'll do it."

Evelyn gave him directions to Herah’s people outside the palace and they made to head back into the party, changing back into their formal wear.

Cullen met her as soon as she stepped inside. He glanced over her quickly, seeming to check for wounds, and Evelyn softened for a brief moment over the silent gesture. "Thank the Maker you're back. The empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?"

Evelyn gazed across the ballroom toward where Celene was preparing in the shadows. She gazed at Florianne in another dark corner, Briala in another, and Gaspard in a third. She pushed her personal beliefs as Evelyn aside and thought for a moment.

They were all horrible people. That much was certain. And she probably had enough blackmail to force them into a treaty. But she had the feeling they would go right back to fighting as soon as the threat of Corypheus was over.

She thought about what Celene’s reign had brought. She had been a patron of education and the arts, true. But her reign and her machinations had led to the death of thousands of elves, the weakening of Orlais as a world power, and a civil war. She had let her cousin manipulate her into a vulnerable position in order to make an attempt at retaining her power and to soothe her own ego.

Gaspard on the other hand, was also a bad person, no doubt. But his men loved him. He was a natural leader, with a strong will and a desire to do right by those he was leading. And he didn’t have a connection to a certain shady elven ambassador.

So, with a heavy sigh and a guilty conscience, the Inquisitor made her choice.

“The Duchess will assassinate the Empress personally. Wait for her to strike, then grab her,” she ordered her Commander.

If Cullen disagreed with her decision, he made no indications of it. He merely nodded and squared his shoulders.

“As you command.”

And then Cullen was gone, as was the Inquisitor, and Evelyn leaned against the railing, the weight of her choice coming down on her as she could do nothing but watch the woman whom she had condemned to death.

* * *

Erik and Morrigan walked back into the ballroom together, and Erik was immediately met by a suspicious Leliana.

“Where have you been? And why are you with _her_?” she demanded.

Morrigan merely laughed and began to leave. “Fear not, Leliana. I have my own man. I would not break his trust in a thousand ages.”

Leliana watched her leave, then turned her angry gaze back toward him.

“I’ll explain later. Has Evelyn returned yet?” he asked quietly.

The scowl didn’t leave her face, but she nodded regardless. “The empress is about to give her speech.”

Erik’s eyes darted around the ballroom, looking for his sister. He found her in full armor, slowly creeping along the railing, making no indication that she would interrupt the proceedings.

He cursed silently and unbuttoned his sleeves, quickly rolling them up his forearms.

“What are you doing?” Leliana asked.

“Get ready for a fight. Evelyn’s going to let Celene die,” he whispered in her ear. As he drew back, Leliana nodded and moved along the right-hand walkway. Erik leaned against a post next to the staircase leading into the ballroom floor and waited, adrenaline already surging into his veins.

“Let all gathered attend! Her Imperial Majesty will now address the court!” the court’s herald declared. Celene stepped up to the railing and gazed down into the gathered nobility.

“My friends, we have lost much,” she began, “We have each seen a child, a lover, a friend consigned to the flames. The darkness has closed in around us, but even now there is light! We must be that light. We must lead our people safely through these troubled times. We must be their guiding star.”

A round of applause came from the court, and Erik locked eyes with Cullen. He gave a subtle nod of his head, and Erik responded in kind.

“Tonight, the war dividing us must end,” Celene declared, stretching her arm toward Florianne.

The Grand Duchess took over. “My friends, we are here to witness a historic moment. A great change is coming for all of us,” she glanced down at her brother, standing just below the railing, “Isn’t that right, Gaspard?”

He saw Evelyn move quicker along the railing, drawing her staff as she did so.

_This is it. Three, two, one…_

Florianne drove her dagger through Celene’s back. The Empress let out a gasp, followed by the echo of the court doing the same. Blood began to pool on her royal blue dress, staining it black. Her face was an image of pain as she gasped for a breath that would not come. Screams of shock now rose from the horrified onlookers as Celene dropped to her knees and out of sight.

“Florianne, what have you done?” Gaspard breathed in shock.

“Don’t be so coy,” the Grand Duchess laughed, “It went just as planned. I did this for you, brother.”

“Me? Have you gone mad?!” he shouted in shock.

Erik watched Evelyn round the corner, and Erik began trotting down the stairs and onto the floor.

“No. Not Gaspard. You did this for Corypheus,” he heard his sister shout. Erik grabbed three soldiers, one of which was Herah.

“Come with me. We need to secure Gaspard. If he dies, Orlais is doomed,” he explained, knowing no one past the four of them would be heard over the shouting. Herah merely nodded and drew her blade, the other two mirroring her action. Erik merely cocked his fists and prepared for a brawl.

“What a terrible guest you are, interrupting your host,” Florianne responded to Evelyn, “For Corypheus! Kill them!”

And then all hell broke loose.

Two Harlequins appeared to their left. Herah dispatched one and Erik tackled another through the table, smashing his porcelain mask and digging the shards into his eye as he screamed in pain. He grabbed the dead assassin’s daggers and began to rise as he felt a hand violently grip his back. Erik reached behind him and used the assassin’s forward momentum to throw him over his head, the Harlequinn’s dagger just barely missing his neck. He slammed the assailant into a table hard enough to collapse it and moved on through the screaming and fleeing nobles. All around him Inquisition soldiers fought Corypheus’s forces. Herah split an assassin in two while Sera drilled another in the eye. He could see Leliana dart through a pair of enemies on the balcony above before driving her daggers into their necks and moving on. Iron Bull, Solas, Cole, and Blackwall followed Evelyn out of the ballroom, each jumping the low railing after the Grand Duchess. Erik jumped across a table before hamstringing another foe and driving his elbow into the nose of another with a solid _crunch_ ; the elbow was followed up with a fist to the throat before he grabbed the back of the stunned man’s neck and drove his head through a candelabra. A crossbow bolt flew past his shoulder and Erik spun to see it lodge into the soft spot of a Venatori’s neck. Erik turned back toward Varric and gave him a quick nod of thanks before making a mad dash toward the Grand Duke, who was being held by another Venatori while a second drew his blade.

Erik threw himself into the assailant and they both crashed into the marble staircase, the sword flying from the man’s grip. The offworlder stood and drove the heel of his boot into the man’s temple as hard as he could, crushing his head against the corner of the stairs as his eyes bulged and then popped out of his head. Gaspard used the momentary shock to throw the man restraining him over his shoulder before diving for the fallen blade and plunging it through the assassin’s chest.

“Duke Gaspard!” Erik shouted over the din. The Grand Duke spun toward him, prepared to take another life.

“We need to get you out of here!” he continued, “If you die, Orlais falls!”

“I will not leave while there is chaos all around me! I will help you fight the bastards that murdered my cousin,” Gaspard resolutely declared.

“You can help by staying alive and coming with us,” Herah shouted back, “Commander Cullen can handle this. We need to ensure your safety.”

The duke’s grip on his blade tightened, then relaxed. His head dropped slightly. “I understand. Lead the way, Champion.”

Erik nodded and began to lead the man who would be Emperor away from the fighting. Herah and the two other soldiers he’d grabbed made a diamond formation around the Grand Duke as they cut their way through the Venatori assassins. Eventually, they made their way into the Vestibule, then the library, where they came to a stop.

Erik turned toward Herah. “Stay with the Grand Duke. The running password is ‘Lions’. Call and respond is ‘blue’ and ‘seven’. I’ll be back when the fighting is over.”

“You owe me a beer for taking me out of the fight like this,” Herah growled.

“Keep the Emperor alive and I’ll owe you more than that,” he shouted back as he ran back toward the ballroom.

* * *

Evelyn was fighting hard, but the enchanted objects that Corypheus had given Florianne were making her a hard target to take down. They had been fighting for nearly ten minutes and had to take out the bitch’s lackeys before they could even think about going after the Grand Duchess. Blackwall had taken a nasty blow to the shoulder about three minutes ago and had just been trying to stay alive since, while Iron Bull simply couldn’t get close enough to the Grand Duchess to strike. Only Evelyn, Solas, and Cole were able to touch the woman, and Cole simply because of his capabilities as a spirit. She threw up a barrier just in time as one of Florianne’s arrows bounced off it; Evelyn countered with a bolt of fire that singed the side of the duchess’s face and threw her off balance.

Then Cole materialized in front of the shocked murderer and drove a dagger through her throat, and Florianne’s eyes went wide in shock. Then they became glassy and she collapsed to the ground, her bow dropping from her hands and blood pooling around her corpse.

“Blackwall, get over here. Let me see that shoulder,” she ordered. The Warden grunted in response and she gripped his arm as she used her magic to stitch the wound back up as best she could. Solas did the same to Bull’s myriad of minor injuries.

“You let her die. Why did you let her die? She was in pain at the end,” Cole moaned.

“It was the decision I made, Cole,” Evelyn sighed, “She’d done more harm than good during her reign.”

“But letting the woman die? I don’t know if I would be able to live with that decision,” Blackwall argued.

“Then thank the Maker I’m the one that has to live with the choice instead of you,” Evelyn shot emotionlessly, “Come on. We should go help inside.”

They moved back into the ballroom to find the situation already handled. She watched as Erik took the head off the last standing assassin and dropped a procured blade before slumping against a pillar in exhaustion.

“Oh. Hey, sis. Florianne dead?” he greeted through panted breaths.

She nodded and glanced around the ballroom. Already Inquisition soldiers were cleaning up the mess and moving the dead Venatori out of the way, while the nobility was beginning to swarm back into the ballroom.

“Where’s the Grand Duke?” Evelyn asked.

“In the library,” he sighed, “Herah and I took him over there to keep him from getting his ass killed. They should be coming back any second.”

Just as he declared as much, the kossith in question returned with two other Inquisition soldiers and the Grand Duke, who looked a little shocked and exhausted but no worse for wear. Briala approached from one of the walkways.

“I think we need to discuss what in the Maker’s name just happened,” she said coldly.

And so that was how Evelyn found herself on a balcony, exhausted and with two shitty people both vying for power.

“You’re wasting your time trying to stir the nobility against me. We’re at war!” Gaspard shouted at Briala.

She merely scoffed in response. “I hardly have to stir them at all. Your sister murdered Celene! In front of the court! You’re guilty of treason by association.”

“What do you hope to gain, rabbit? You cannot simply take the empty throne for yourself,” Gaspard sighed wearily.

“I can keep it from you,” Briala growled.

Despite cringing inwardly at the racial slur Gaspard had just thrown, Evelyn sighed and stuck to her decision. “You’re done meddling, Briala. Gaspard will be Emperor.”

She crossed her arms and gazed at her. “You think you can keep him in power? _Really_? Will you sit by his throne and hold his hand to fend off the accusations of the court?”

Evelyn scowled at the woman. “I have a servant under my protection that can attest that you and the Empress were intimate at the time of her purging of Halamshiral’s alienage. Which also points to you having agents infiltrate the Winter Palace to disrupt the peace talks that were planned.”

Briala slumped her shoulders. “I see,” she said quietly.

“The important thing now is for Orlais to have stability,” Evelyn declared.

“You think you did this for the good of Orlais?” the elven woman scowled, “This is a grab for power; a child could see that.”

“The game is over, Briala. You played well, but you lost,” Gaspard said solemnly, “Your death today will bring years of stability to the empire.”

He turned toward Evelyn as Briala was taken into custody. “Come, my friend. You and I should address the court.”

He continued speaking as they walked. “We owe you our lives, Inquisitor. I will remember that. You’ve been a friend… and I am not a man who forgets his friends.

“Stand with me. We should speak to the people together.”

Shocked murmurs rippled through the gathered court as Gaspard and Evelyn walked to the very same spot Celene was murdered. Evelyn once again pushed herself aside and let the Inquisitor take over.

“And so the crown falls to me,” Gaspard spoke solemnly, “This is not the victory I had hoped for; I wanted this moment filled with song, not with sorrow. But I have always been a soldier. And as any soldier knows, the difference between defeat and victory is how it is named.

“An enemy has struck the empire in its very heart. As your Emperor, I promise justice. Orlais will not allow such atrocities – corruption, deceit, murder – to go unchallenged. We will face this Corypheus. We will crush him beneath our heel. He will know the wrath of the Lion. We will fight shoulder-to-shoulder with the Inquisition. Together, we will send our enemy to the Maker’s judgment.”

A cheer rose from the crowd as Gaspard finished, and the Inquisitor stepped forward, determined to make her mark.

“We will teach Corypheus and his allies the meaning of fear. Their victims will be avenged, and we will bring stability and peace to a world that monster means to destroy. Together, Orlais and the Inquisition will crush his forces, hunt his allies down, and bring his fanatics to their knees. No corner of Thedas will be safe for the snakes that haunt the shadows.”

“We have much work ahead,” Gaspard concluded, “But that is for another day. Tonight, be at ease. Rest and prepare yourselves for the battle ahead.”

One final cheer rose from the court, and despite herself, the Inquisitor gave the Emperor a smile.

Evelyn gazed into the night and the moons, tucked partly away behind a blanketing of clouds. Halamshiral slept below, likely unaware of the chaos that had just occurred at the palace.

“Here at last I find our absent hero, hidden away despite the efforts of all of Orlais to find you,” a rich, slightly sarcastic voice came from behind her. Evelyn glanced to her side and found Morrigan approaching, looking no worse for wear than last she saw the witch.

“Gaspard drunkenly toasts in your honor; ‘Deliverer from Darkness’,” she continued sardonically, “And other titles complementary and awkwardly phrased.”

Evelyn let out an exhausted laugh. “That’s what I do. Fall out of the sky, make bad decisions, and _somehow_ everyone still follows me.”

Morrigan smiled at her. “So they do. It seems I am also to join that esteemed crowd. By imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition,” she informed Evelyn, “Gaspard offers to wish any and all aid to the one that supported his ascent to the throne. So, here I am.”

Evelyn was secretly relieved. She knew the witch was extremely knowledgeable, and her aid would likely be invaluable. “Then I bid you a sincere welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan.”

“A most gracious response. I shall meet you at Skyhold.”

“Or you could simply ride with us. It would be safer, and we could discuss your position more fully on the ride back.”

Morrigan blinked, seemingly surprised by the openness Evelyn was showing. “That… would work as well. You should know, however, that I have a son that will be traveling with me. He is well behaved and quiet. He should not cause trouble.”

“We have plenty of room for the both of you,” she responded, “I’ll make sure we give you enough space for the two of you. Meet us at the de Ghislain estate tomorrow. We should be departing the following day.”

Morrigan gave one final nod and left. She was immediately replaced by Cullen.

“There you are. Everyone’s been looking for you. Things have calmed down for the moment… are you all right?” he asked worriedly.

Her heart immediately was sent into a flutter and her head started feeling fuzzy. She wasn’t sure how to react to his presence; they’d been in business mode for the past three days, but now, things were over, and she couldn’t help but think about their little moment before the masquerade had started. How they’d had a night where a perfectly wonderful moment was nearly ruined by Leliana’s possibly intentional meddling. She remembered how she’d simply melted into his embrace, the softness of his lips, the tickle of his stubble against her cheek…

She cleared her throat and drew herself from her reverie. “I’m just worn out,” she sighed, “Tonight has just been… very long.”

“For all of us,” he agreed, “I’m glad it’s over.” Evelyn didn’t respond, choosing instead to stare into the garden below and slip into musings about whether she’d made the right decision. Which was probably the opposite of what she should be doing.

“I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight,” Cullen said tenderly as his hand came to rest on her back and he began to make soothing circles with his thumb. A cheer came from the nobility inside as a slow song began to play.

Cullen gave a nervous smile. “I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask,” he stepped away from her and extended his hand, “May I have this dance, my lady.”

Evelyn blinked in shock, and she spoke before she could really think. “Of course. I thought you didn’t dance?”

He took her hand and placed the other on her waist as he drew her near. “For you, I’ll try.”

And they spent the last of the night there, alone, on the balcony, as a slow song played and Evelyn was briefly allowed to take the weight of the world from her shoulders.

* * *

Erik and Leliana drunkenly giggled as he dragged her into a secluded part of the palace. They had been separated that night for far too long, him with dealing with the nobility and her with securing his new magic toy. He slipped his hand from hers to open the door before them, and together they slipped through the arch. As soon as Leliana shut the door behind her, she assaulted him. He was shoved against what he could only assume was a desk as she pressed her lips to his, then bit down on his neck and sucked. He winced in pain and pleasure and his eyes fluttered open ever so briefly.

It was then that he realized they were in the trophy room. He chuckled at the thought of the Mass Effect easter egg found in this room in the game, with the krogan head mounted to the wall. His eyes darted across the myriad of taxidermied animals throughout the chamber…

And then his gaze fell on the head of a krogan, mounted to the wall. He immediately sobered up and could do nothing but vocalize the one thought that flooded his mind.

“What the _fuck_?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Ballroom Blitz by Sweet - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Aze726qAwA
> 
> I'm not saying Gaspard is the best choice here. I'm just trying to make a case for *why* someone would choose Gaspard.
> 
> Also, I know Morrigan is a cold, hardened character, but she's softened significantly by the time Inquisition rolls around, mostly due to Kieran. I also have viewed her character as having serious regrets about Kieran having to deal with Urthemiel living inside of him. I may have gone a bit overboard, but I've seen mothers break down about their children. It is not pretty.
> 
> Shout-out to jennserr for coming up with the last scene. It was something that I hadn't even thought of, but when it was pointed out to me I had no other choice but to include it.


	33. Update 10/23/20

Hey all. Just a quick update and a bit of pouring out my soul. This will likely be the only one that stays up when this fic is completed. I have not posted for a couple of weeks, and I want to explain why the updates are being stretched out so much more than usual, as well as a couple personal things I feel comfortable sharing here.

Firstly, the pacing of the story. The way I am writing this fic, it will be a couple months in-universe before the Battle of Adamant Fortress. I have always planned it this way for two reasons. Firstly, it makes no sense to have the entire Orlesian Wardens at Adamant so soon after the test ritual. They're too spread out and the Western Approach is super out of the way. Add to that any other chapters of the Order traveling from their home nations and... well, you get the idea. The second reason for the main plot taking a temporary back seat is because I will be using the lull in key plot chapters to develop relationships (both platonic and romantic) as well as the minor characters, namely the Inner Circle, Morrigan, Hawke & Isabela, and Pana and Herah, my original (or semi-original in Herah's case) Qunari characters. I am taking my time with this because I love these characters and I would hate to do them injustice by writing _any_ of them poorly. Also, as a little tidbit, I may be adding a third POV, but we'll have to see about that 😉.

Now for the personal stuff.

I have been diagnosed with testicular cancer. It and the previous health issue caused by it have been a one-two punch that took me off my feet for a nearly two months, metaphorically speaking. I'm doing okay and I will survive with my testicle intact, but I still gotta fight it.

Because of this unexpected twist, I have been reflecting on my life and everything I have done in it. I have committed many morally questionable acts in my life. I have lied, cheated, and stole and a child. I was a shit kid with parents that worked harder than they should have to support me and my antics. I don't regret it, because it made me who I am today. I have killed so many people, and I volunteered for it knowing fully what that meant, but I do not regret a single life I have taken, because in a morbid way it has made me realize the value in human life, and it has allowed me to help twice as many people who are twice as good and kind as those I killed. I will be forever proud of that, at least.

In truth, the only regret I have in life is destroying the beautiful friendship I had with my little brother. Even if I repair it, it will never be the same and I will be haunted by my actions toward him for the rest of my life. It is the sole reason I decided to have a sibling-like relationship between Erik and Evelyn in _Lost in the Sauce._ If you take anything from this little writing experiment, I would hope it would be that the bond between family is special and must be cared for with the utmost grace, care, and caution. Don't make the same mistake I did.

Lastly, I would like to thank each and every one of you readers for sticking with me. I didn't expect anything when I first wrote this, and I still have a long way to go before I deliver a complete work, but the almost unanimous positive feedback I have received has been a very welcome surprise. Even though I only know you by screen names, you all mean a lot to me, and your support has helped me more than you could ever possibly know. If any of you ever need to speak about anything, my email is JMcLellan007@gmail.com. I will help in any way I can.

Be excellent to each other. I promise a very long chapter next time I update.


	34. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn makes conversation. Leliana opens Pandora's Box. The Iron Bull receives a message. The Arcanist arrives. Cullen has a breakdown. Four unlikely friends (and a dog) make a journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly fluff and character development. Also the longest chapter I've written, by far.

Erik lay in bed with Leliana, staring up at the ceiling in thought. They had handled the Winter Palace rather nicely, if his opinion mattered. And he had accomplished his own mission in securing the Eluvian network. Even now, he could feel it in the back of his mind. Like the mirrors were calling for him, singing a siren song for him to step through and see where his new network would take him. He knew that the elves had built some mirrors that led to other worlds; he wondered if one led back to his.

As if sensing his thoughts, Leliana asked him a very poignant question.

“Erik?” He hummed in response.

“If you had the chance, would you go back to your world?” she asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

Erik responded immediately. “No.”

She sat up and looked at him. “No? Why?”

He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of things I miss about Earth. I miss electricity, and running water, and being able to get on a plane and fly anywhere I want. But I’ve been here for nearly a year, Leliana. I don’t know how time would flow. Maybe it’s been ten years back on Earth. Maybe twenty. Maybe I would wind up exactly where I left off. I don’t know. I don’t want to risk that. I could get charged with desertion, or I would have to pick up the pieces of my life.

“And I would always wonder, what if? What if I had just stayed here, with the life I built for myself? Sure, it can be hard here. I’m in danger. I have to deal with dragons and would-be gods and the Blight. But the people I’ve met here… they seem more, I don’t know, genuine? Honest?”

She bit her lip in thought and then continued her questioning. “Would anything convince you to go back, if you had the opportunity?”

“Only if you went with me,” he said, “But I know you would never do that. You care about this world too much. I’ve never loved anyone like this before. I want to see where it goes. I’m sure Josie told you about our little talk a few months back when she threatened me if I ever hurt you?”

“She told me,” the Orlesian nodded.

“Then you know I’ve been hurt before. I don’t want to deal with that again. I’ve found something special with you, as stupid as that sounds. We’ve known each other for what, ten months? Been together for… maybe half of that? But time is irrelevant. I found something beautiful, and I’m going to hold onto it for as long as I can. Hopefully for the rest of my life.”

There was silence for several minutes. For exactly how long, he didn’t know. Leliana merely lay deathly still at his side, and Erik felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He worried he had gone too far, that he had said too much too soon, that he had ruined something great.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she finally murmured.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he sighed, “I kind of said a lot that may have been too much. Just forget we had this conversation.”

* * *

Evelyn was still groggy when one of the de Ghislain’s servants approached her after breakfast.

“Pardon me Your Worship, but a raven just arrived,” she stuttered, “The Emperor is on his way to see your party off.”

She sighed and drew herself up from the couch she was lounging on. She fixed her hair slightly and waited in the foyer. After about two minutes, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

“Gaspard is coming to say goodbye,” she grunted.

“Good. I need to talk to him.”

That elicited a number of questions, but only one was important to Evelyn. “What about?”

He merely shrugged. “The same things I warned Celene about, but since Celene is dead, I gotta tell him, too.”

“Gaspard isn’t like Celene, you know,” she pointed out, “He won’t just take your words at face value. Celene had an obsession with the esoteric.”

“And after I’m done with him, Gaspard will, too,” Erik sighed ruefully.

“Erik, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” she sighed. Seriously, it was as though he had become obsessed in the last few days. What had gotten into him?

Erik glanced around quickly and pulled her into an alcove with more force than he needed to use. His eyes were wild, and he looked deathly serious.

“Evelyn, what I am trying to prepare for is potentially the end of the world as we all know it,” he whispered, “I’ve hardly been able to think about anything else recently. Especially with the –”

He stopped abruptly, causing Evelyn to search her brother’s eyes for some clue as to what had stopped his short rant.

“Especially with what?” she demanded. He merely shook his head.

“Not here. On the carriage ride back, I’ll explain it,” he promised.

She was about to say something further when she heard horses outside. Evelyn and Erik stepped out of the alcove and stood next to Cullen, Leliana and Josephine to await Gaspard’s arrival.

A minute later, he walked unmasked through the door, followed by Morrigan and a young boy of about nine or ten that Evelyn could only assume was Morrigan’s son.

“Emperor Gaspard,” Josephine began to sink into a low curtsy before Gaspard waved her off.

“None of that, Ambassador, the coronation hasn’t happened quite yet,” he said with an easy smile, “I merely came to see you all off, and to thank Inquisitor Trevelyan once again for her help in thwarting my sister’s plot.”

“I was only doing what was necessary,” Evelyn downplayed.

“Nonsense,” he laughed, “Most would have pissed themselves right then and there. You came with a plan and saw that plan through to fruition.”

Evelyn wasn’t sure how to respond; she merely gave a gracious smile in return. Gaspard clapped his hands and looked at the five leaders of the Inquisition.

“Now, before you go, is there anything else I may assist the Inquisition with?” the Grand Duke asked.

“There is,” Evelyn nodded, “I’m sure you’ve heard about the disappearance of the Grey Wardens?”

She saw Morrigan’s eyes widen slightly and her hand go to a ring on her finger. Gaspard’s face scrunched up at the same time.

“I had heard whispers, but nothing major,” he admitted, “I assume now that I’ve taken the office of Emperor, I will hear more of this. But what does this have to do with your endeavor against Corypheus?”

Evelyn thought about how to word her explanation. “Corypheus controls the Blight, and he’s leading the Grey Wardens of Orlais into a trap in the Western Approach. He’ll use their deaths to summon an army of demons to invade Thedas. We will be marching the Inquisition’s army into the Approach to stop this, but seeing as we’ll be marching through your empire, we’d like your blessing before we launch our operation.”

“I see,” he murmured before turning to Cullen, “When will this march occur?”

“Not for two months at least, Your Grace,” the Fereldan replied, “Our latest intelligence suggests the Wardens are still gathering, and that the trap is yet to be sprung.”

“Well, at the very least I can give you my permission,” he said without a second thought, “I wish I could give more, but Orlais’ armies will need to recover from the civil war before we go into battle any time soon. Perhaps when you finally root out Corypheus’s forces, we will be at strength enough to lend our aid.”

“We never wanted anything more,” Evelyn thanked him. Gaspard gave a tight nod.

“I’ve also brought my arcane advisor as liaison to your Inquisition,” he said, gesturing toward Morrigan, “I assume Lady Morrigan has informed you.”

Evelyn nodded. “She has. We’ll welcome her expertise.”

“Good,” he nodded, “Now if there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave. I wish you good luck and the Maker’s blessing on your endeavor.”

“A moment, if you will, Your Grace,” Erik spoke up, “I need to speak with you.”

Gaspard raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what is of such import?”

“I can’t say it here. We need to speak alone. I swear on my honor you will come to no harm.”

Gaspard thought for a long moment, then he nodded. “Very well. Lead the way, Champion.” The two left into the first-floor study, and Evelyn saw Erik slip Leliana’s silencing rune out of his pocket right before he closed the door.

Ten minutes later, they both re-entered the foyer, and Evelyn had never seen a man so pale as Gaspard looked as he left the study.

* * *

The carriage ride back to Skyhold was rather quiet. Erik and Leliana got into a small argument about something, but Evelyn decided she didn’t want to know. He would tell her if he wanted to. Hawke and Isabela were up to their usual antics and found compatriots in Dorian, Sera, and surprisingly, Blackwall. They largely stayed away from her and lost Dorian as an accessory to their debauchery when they started teasing him about his budding relationship with Bull.

Only one thing largely of note occurred during their return, really, and that was her strange conversation with Morrigan’s son, Kieran.

She was sitting beneath the stars while they camped on the road, staring into the two moons and thinking about nothing in particular when she heard a small, raspy voice that belonged to a child coming from her right.

“You’re the Inquisitor,” he said as he stared at her. Evelyn was yanked from her aimless thoughts as she looked at Kieran. He had his mother’s nose and ears, with chestnut hair and a striking jaw that he likely received from his father. His eyes were strange; Morrigan’s haunting, unnatural yellow sat at the center, largely dominating his iris, but there was a small ring of sharp, ice-blue on the outside. He wore a pendant that Evelyn had only seen once before: the insignia of a Warden-Commander.

Evelyn quickly remembered who the boy’s father was.

She shook herself out of her observations. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

Kieran shook his head. “No, it would be worse if you couldn’t touch magic at all… like being blind,” he said in an unnerving, almost monotone voice. He suddenly blinked, and Evelyn realized he had been staring at her marked hand for nearly a minute without wetting his eyes.

“Kieran,” Morrigan called as she approached, her voice sharp with the edge of a mother preparing to scold her child, “Are you bothering the Inquisitor?”

The boy shook his head. “Of course not. Have you _seen_ what’s on her hand, mother?”

“I did see,” she responded with a hint of laughter, “’Tis time for bed, my little man.”

Kieran suddenly seemed much less creepy as he sighed like any nine-year-old would and moved in for a hug from his mother. She obliged and gave him a quick peck on his brow before he strode off to their carriage.

Morrigan let out a soft laugh. “My son. _Never_ where you expect him to be, naturally.”

“This is the first time I’ve met him, actually,” Evelyn replied, “Erik had said you had a son.”

“Really?” the witch asked, her voice gaining a bit of hostility, “And what did he tell you, exactly?”

“Only who his father is, though I could have probably pieced it together from the pendant he’s wearing,” she assuaged.

Morrigan relaxed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, my love has always been a bit sentimental. ‘Twas a gift to Kieran before he left on his journey,” she paused before continuing, “To most in the Imperial Court, he is simply a quiet and well-spoken lad, perhaps the heir of some distant family… which I suppose isn’t _untrue._ But he goes where I go. Worry not, Inquisitor – Kieran is a curious boy, but seldom troublesome.”

Evelyn chose her next words carefully. “Will his father be joining us as well?” Morrigan fidgeted with her ring again, a tangle of rosewood with a small ruby in the center.

“‘Twould be… most unlikely,” she sighed, “My husband helped raise Kieran for most his life, but events have conspired to take him elsewhere. So, ‘tis but the two of us, Inquisitor. I hear your fortress is a large place, so I imagine you will scarce notice our presence.”

Evelyn glanced over to where Kieran was sitting on the floor of Morrigan’s carriage, reading a book by magelight.

“He seems like a fine young man,” she admitted.

“But not the sort one might expect a woman like me to raise?” Morrigan said with a hint of sadness, “No son of mine would be raised in a marsh, bereft of contact with the outside world. His future will be difficult enough without my adding to his burden.” The witch glanced toward Kieran, then did a double-take and sighed.

“I told him to go to bed,” she huffed, “You’ll have to excuse me, Inquisitor.” She strode off to her son, and Evelyn saw Kieran glance up from his book. He noticed his mother approaching their carriage and he quickly threw a blanket over himself and tossed the book aside, his magelight instantly going out.

Evelyn decided she should probably go to sleep, as well, and stood to move toward her carriage. She stopped when she saw Cassandra reading underneath a lamp. Evelyn froze and stared at the scene for a moment. She’d never viewed the Seeker as much more than a walking battering ram with little in the way of personality, though she supposed even Cassandra had to have her own hobbies. Evelyn approached quietly and observed the woman reading for a few more minutes before she spoke.

"Good book?"

The Seeker shouted in surprise and stumbled out of her seat. Cassandra hid the book behind her back. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Yes, because I suddenly went blind from all that Orlesian finery."

"It's of no interest to you, I'm certain," Cassandra snapped. She raised an eyebrow in humor and crosser her arms, and Cassandra relaxed slightly and then sighed.

"It's a book."

"I can see that."

"It's..." Cassandra showed Evelyn the cover. A tall, redheaded woman with a headband stood on the cover. Swords and Shields. "One of Varric's tales. Swords and Shields. The latest chapter."

A romance. Evelyn shrugged. "So you like to read. What's wrong with that?"

"It's frivolous. There are more important things for me to do."

"That's just her favorite," Dorian commented as he walked by.

Cassandra stammered for a moment. "Nobody asked _you_ , Tevinter."

Dorian's smile widened. "I couldn't finish the last one you lent me. I actually feel dumber for having tried.”

Evelyn watched him go and turned back to Cassandra, who blushed. "It's literature. Smutty… Literature." It was like she suddenly admitted to practicing blood magic. She held out her hands pleadingly. "Whatever you do, don't tell Varric."

"Why not?” Evelyn’s lips twitched into a smile involuntarily, “I think Varric would be pleased to have another fan."

"'Pleased.' Yes, that's one word for it,” Cassandra sighed, “They're terrible. And _magnificent_. And this one ends in a cliffhanger. I know Varric is working on the next, he must be.”

Her eyes lit up. “You, you could ask him to finish it, command him to…” the light in her eyes died as soon as they appeared, “Pretend you don't know this about me.”

* * *

Erik was finally getting around to writing everything he needed to. He sat in his and Leliana’s carriage while he wrote by his phone’s light, his eyes aching almost as much as his wrist. He’d gone through nearly twelve full pages, front and back, of small print explanations of the world while Leliana was off chatting with Josephine. He’d been at it for hours, long after the rest of the Inner Circle had gone to bed. The last three pages involved the Evanuris and the fall of Elvhenan, and he decided he’d finally said enough; he went back to the first page of what must have seemed like a madman’s ravings and proofread.

“Writing a journal, are we?” Leliana’s melodious voice rang as she stepped into the carriage. Erik looked up and rubbed his eyes.

“More like writing my own Book of Revelation,” he grunted. When it became clear Leliana wouldn’t understand the reference, he changed tactics, “My own Dissonant Verse.”

“Oh? Am I in a relationship with a blasphemer, then?” she joked, reaching for the papers. Erik recoiled slightly, then froze, staring at the papers.

Trust was huge in a relationship, and it was clear Leliana knew the knowledge was eating at him. Back on Earth, it was merely interesting lore, almost unique in the way it was written, and it captured his imagination. But not now. It was real now, and that meant the knowledge he had put to paper was very, very dangerous. He didn’t want to put the woman across from him in any more danger than she would already be in. Erik glanced up to see Leliana with an openly hurt expression on her face. He wasn’t sure how much of it was manipulation; she was certainly more than capable of it. But she only allowed herself open expressions around him, and only when they were completely alone.

He sighed and, against his better judgment, handed her the stack of world-shaking truths he had put to paper.

“This is everything I know, in the simplest terms I could put it,” he said in a small voice once he’d closed the carriage door. She looked up from the papers in shock.

“Everything?” she asked.

“Everything regarding the nature of the world,” he clarified, “Not necessarily about certain people. Most of it is simple enough to understand, at least at a base level. The rest is more… esoteric.”

She looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Leliana squared her shoulders at him, a scowl painted on her face.

“You won’t like it. Read and find out,” Erik sighed. And he doubted she would like it. At least two things in there upended the entire history of Thedas, and at least one thing would demonize magic so horribly that the Chantry may attempt to clamp down even harder on mages.

Erik sat in silence, watching Leliana face change as she read through the dozen papers. Shock, then horror, then relief, then confusion, then shock again. The shocked look remained on her features until she finished the manuscript, only deepening as she went further into Erik’s writing.

An hour later, she dropped the papers next to her and stared beyond the sleeping pad rolled out for the two of them. She said nothing, and her face said even less.

“I wish I hadn’t read any of that,” the spymaster admitted, not moving her eyes at all.

“Ignorance is bliss,” Erik agreed, “Now you know why I’ve been so reluctant to share what I know.”

“And now I agree with your decision,” she sighed. Erik propped himself up on an elbow from where he was laying on the sleeper.

“You didn’t before?”

She shook her head. “I don’t like being kept in the dark, Erik. You know that. It irked me that you knew such crucial information and refused to share it. But this… even with all the information I handle and everything I've seen, I finally feel like I know too much.”

Erik didn’t respond. He had nothing to say to that because it was true. She now knew too much.

“Why would you put things like that to paper? What would make you think –”

“I might die, Leliana,” he sighed as she sprawled herself out next to him, “There are no less than three pretty gnarly battles coming up, and there’s no guarantee I’ll survive _any_ of them. If I die, I want everyone to know the truth.”

“You’ll spill the secrets of creation, but not how things will pan out with Corypheus?” the Orlesian pressed.

He shook his head. “You would have succeeded at that even without me. It’s the future I’m worried about if I die.”

“Please don’t say that. You aren’t going to die. I won’t allow it.” He didn’t respond as she curled herself into his side. He stared at the ceiling of the carriage, wishing more than anything that he could promise he would stay alive.

* * *

Evelyn held out two days before she told Varric. She couldn’t keep it to herself; she wasn’t sure why, but she had to tell Varric about his secret fan. So, naturally, the day they left a small village just outside Jader, she told him everything when he was alone in the carriage he usually shared with Hawke and Isabela.

"I must have heard that wrong,” he said slowly after a minute of shocked silence, “It sounded like you said that Cassandra read my books."

Evelyn nodded, an evil grin on her face. "She's a pretty big fan, in fact."

"Are we talking about the same Cassandra? Tall, grumpy Seeker? Likes stabbing things?" he blinked, a look of confusion on his face, "Wait, did you say the romance serial? Oh, she'll be waiting for a while, then. I haven't finished it and wasn't planning to. That book is easily the _worst_ I've ever written. The last issue barely sold enough to pay for the ink."

Evelyn shrugged. “Well, Cassandra seems to be hooked on it.”

The dwarf chuckled to himself. “And I honestly thought a hole in the sky that shat out demons was the weirdest thing that could happen. So… You want me to finish writing the latest issue of my worst serial. For Cassandra,” Varric’s eyes twinkled and the chuckle became a hearty laugh, "That's such a terrible idea. I have to do it… on one condition: I get to be there when you give her the book."

Evelyn didn’t have to think about her response. "You've got a deal."

Varric reached into his bag and grabbed a sheaf of papers. "I'll get to work, then. You know, the fact that the book is terrible just makes it more worthwhile, somehow."

Evelyn merely laughed and climbed out of the carriage. She was immediately met with a rather distraught Iron Bull.

“Boss. I need to talk to you,” he said breathlessly. Evelyn blinked at his tone and squared her shoulders.

“Alright. What about?” she asked tentatively.

The Qunari shook his head. “Not here. Alone… maybe bring Erik with you. He might be able to give a bit of insight. He probably already knows, to be honest.”

Evelyn decidedly did not like where Bull was going with this, and so the Inquisitor followed Bull to where Erik was sitting next to Leliana atop their carriage, gazing into the sunset.

“Erik!” she shouted. The offworlder jerked his head toward her in response and saw Bull’s face. It was clear that he knew exactly what was about to happen. He murmured something to his paramour and hopped down, grabbing something from his carriage and following the Inquisitor to her carriage. Once both of them were in and Bull had managed to squeeze inside, Erik placed Leliana’s silencing rune on the ground between them.

“What’s this about, Bull?” she asked, glancing at Erik’s face. His expression was strained and guarded. Whatever Iron Bull was about to say, it was bad, at least in the offworlder’s eyes.

Bull took a deep breath. “There’s a Qunari dead drop in Jader. I picked up a message when we passed through last night. It’s from my contacts in the Ben-Hassrath. Probably should have verified it with Red, but since you’re running the show here, I took it directly to you."

“Oh, boy,” Erik sighed, “Here we go...”

"What did the letter say?" she demanded, ignoring Erik’s quip.

"The Ben-Hassrath have been reading my reports. They don't like Corypheus or his Venatori. And they _really_ don't like red lyrium," he scratched at the eyepatch strap on his horn, "They're ready to work with us. With you, boss. The Qunari and the Inquisition, joining forces."

She wasn’t sure what to say, but she had to keep talking. "That could be a powerful alliance."

"My people have never made a full-blown alliance with a foreign power before. This would be a big step," he rolled his shoulders, "They've found a massive red lyrium shipping operation out on the coast."

Erik interrupted. "They want us to hit it together, and they want Bull to bring the Chargers. They’re bringing in one of their dreadnoughts.”

Bull nodded, completely unfazed by Erik’s foreknowledge. "Krem always wanted to see one of them in action. This might be his chance," he commented absentmindedly before shifting back on course, "They're worried about tipping the smugglers, so no army. My Chargers, you, maybe some backup from the Inner Circle."

The Inquisitor still wasn’t convinced. It sounded like a trap. "What does this alliance really get us?"

The Qunari grunted. “We don’t mince words in the Qun. They wouldn't use the word 'alliance' if they didn't mean it. Naval power. More Ben-Hassrath reports. Qunari soldiers pointed at the Venatori..." he rubbed at his eyepatch again, "It could do a lot of good."

She noticed he was being extra dodgy. "You don't seem entirely happy about this."

"No, I'm good. It's, uh..." he shrugged, "I'm used to them being over there. It's been a while. Look, the Qun answers a lot of questions. It’s a good life for a lot of people. But it’s a big change. And a lot of folks here wouldn’t do well under that kind of life."

Bull didn’t have to explain any more than that. She was a mage. She heard how they treated their own magic wielders. Saarebaas, they were called. She suppressed a shudder at the thought.

Naturally, she didn’t entirely trust the offer, but she didn’t want to play her hand quite yet. "I think the Inquisition could use some help from the Qunari."

Bull nodded. "Good. I'll pass the word to Cullen and Red. We can set up the meeting whenever you're ready." He opened the door and squeezed out, his foot brushing the silencing rune as he went. Erik just as quickly batted it away from the Qunari’s massive foot and held it under his heel. As soon as the door closed, she turned to Erik.

“Tell me everything you know about this offer of alliance,” she ordered.

Erik drummed his fingers on his knee in thought. “The offer is legit… somewhat.”

“How is it ‘somewhat’ legitimate?” she barked, “It either is or it isn’t.”

“The Qun really does want to work with the Inquisition in their defeat of Corypheus,” he explained, “But it’s a trap. The Qunari still want to convert everyone in the world, and the Inquisition is shaping up to be a world power. Best to take us out with an alliance if they plan on making any major moves in the near future.”

“And are they?”

“They’re always trying to make moves,” he laughed sardonically, “And when they fail, they say it wasn’t a sanctioned attack. That means one of two things: either the Qun is _way_ more fractured than they let on, or they lie about everything to everyone outside their control.”

“And that includes this meeting,” she sighed, “Alright. If I go – and that’s a big if – what can I expect?”

“It isn’t an if at all,” Erik countered, “You have to go. If you don’t, Bull stays loyal to the Qun and we’ll be forced to kill him in a couple of years.”

She blinked. “That seems important. Why would you tell me that?”

“Because I like Bull, and I’d rather see him alive than dead. This offer of an alliance isn’t entirely about defeating Corypheus. It’s also a test of Bull’s loyalty.”

She cocked her head at Erik, and he sighed and pinched his brow.

“Bull fought a war of attrition with no end in sight on a shithole island,” he explained, “At one point, he was one of the Ben-Hassrath’s best agents. Then the shit he’d seen and done on Seheron caught up with him, and he volunteered for reeducation. When that was done, they sent him away to be a spy in the south and live ostensibly as a Tal-Vashoth. He’s been doing this for ten years, and his superiors are questioning his loyalty now.”

“Why? He’s regularly sent reports. I’ve read them, for fuck’s sake. He’s been loyal to the Qun,” Evelyn puzzled.

“Has he? He built a new family. He gave himself a name. He seems to be unhappy that the Qunari are calling again. He wants out, at some level. He just needs a little push.”

Realization dawned on her. “This is Bull’s only opportunity to get out under the Qunari’s thumb.”

Erik nodded. “There’s going to be a dreadnought at the meeting. And a lot more Venatori than the Qunari let on. The Chargers will be trapped, and he has to make the choice to sacrifice the Chargers or call them back.”

“And if he sacrifices the Chargers, he’ll have nothing left _but_ the Qun,” she sighed, “Okay. We’ll go. Do you have anything planned?”

An all too happy grin crept over Erik’s face. “Absolutely. I will take any opportunity to raise hell for the Qunari. I’d plant a nuke in Par Vollen if you guys had figured out how to split the atom.”

She shook off the odd comment. “Okay, so what’s your plan?”

“It requires a very specific circumstance, Isabela, and for Dagna to have arrived at Skyhold in our absence.”

Evelyn followed Erik to where Marian and Isabela were drinking outside their carriage. The Rivaini was the first to notice them, and she raised an eyebrow at the siblings’ presence, drawing herself up from the wheel she was lounging on.

“You look like you need something,” she deduced cheerfully. Erik nodded to the carriage and the four of them piled in, shutting the door behind them.

“Hey, Isabela,” Erik said in a playful tone. She tented her fingers and leaned forward.

“Yes?” she returned, mirroring Erik’s inflection.

“You’re a pirate, right?”

She scoffed. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“And you hate the Qun?”

“Again, do you know who you’re talking to?”

“And do you like big boats?”

Her lips snaked into a smile. “I do, I cannot lie.”

* * *

Luckily for Erik, Dagna did arrive while they were gone. After bathing, he promptly descended into the undercroft with Evelyn, rifle and bag of ammunition in hand. He was absolutely thrilled, as he was sure Dagna would be at his Earthly contraption. Evelyn, on the other hand, didn’t quite understand why Erik was so excited.

“So. What can you tell me about this Arcanist?” Evelyn asked skeptically.

“Dagna? You’ve probably seen her. She--”

“Wait, _Dagna_ ? The dwarf? The one that studied at Kinloch Hold?” Evelyn sputtered, “I attended one of her lectures on the dualistic nature of lyrium and its implications back in 9:36. She’s got the most brilliant mind I’ve ever seen. You’re telling me we got _her_?”

Erik merely smiled and nodded. They entered the undercroft as Harritt was working on a breastplate. Evelyn glanced around as they descended the flight of stairs, clearly not seeing the Arcanist anywhere. Erik caught a flash of bright red as the dwarf in question looked up from a workbench.

"Hello there," her bright, cheerful, feminine voice chirped. Evelyn stood slack-jawed before the woman, her entire upper body going limp.

The young woman smiled. "Well, don't just stand there slack-jawed, let's figure out what you need."

“ _Y_ _ou’re_ my new arcanist?” Evelyn asked in excitement.

The bright woman pieced it together quickly. "Oooh, you're her! The Inquisitor," she practically skipped over and gave a bow, "I'm Dagna. Arcanist Dagna. It's an honor, Your Worship."

“The honor’s all mine,” Evelyn finally said, dragging herself out of her starstruck stupor as Erik watched on in utter amusement, “I attended one of your lectures at Ostwick in 9:36. Your work is some of the most brilliant I’ve ever seen.”

Dagna blushed and looked down and away. “Oh, that’s flattering, but I’m not sure that--” she stopped herself mid-sentence and glanced at Evelyn’s left hand, "Is that it? The hand-Anchor-mark? It's pretty. The Breach was pretty, too. In a... 'destroy everything' sort of way."

Evelyn and Dagna spoke for nearly an hour, Dagna describing her past and how she came into the title of Arcanist despite the notorious dwarven lack of magic. They tumbled down different rabbit hole subjects as she showed Evelyn much of her equipment, and as Erik looked on, he was shocked at how sophisticated it seemed. It looked like she could probably make anything with her materials and the Inquisition’s connections, magical or not. As the fascinating conversation trailed off, Evelyn finally smiled wholeheartedly at the sunny young dwarven woman whose mind worked at a thousand miles an hour.

"I welcome you to the Inquisition, and look forward to your contribution."

"Me, too! I've heard some impossible things. I love impossible things. Those are the best to make, well, possible. I've looked at Harritt's devices. The precision is fantastic, but typical. Mundane. _Old_ thinking."

Harritt stopped his work on his current project and looked up, confused. "It's what now?"

"No disrespect meant to the classical trades," Dagna called back, "But you need a new perspective. I've made adjustments. As long as I keep making them, you can craft just about anything. Almost safely."

Evelyn nodded. “As a matter of fact, there is something you can make me. Or my brother, actually, but it may be challenging. I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

“As I said, I like making the impossible, possible,” the Arcanist turned toward Erik, “You are…?”

Erik outstretched his hand. “Erik Andersen. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re the one they say is from another world! Do you really know everything?”

“Well, not quite everything,” he chuckled, “I know that Aedan Cousland used his influence to get you to study at Kinloch Hold and that you–”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” she held up her hand, “Almost no one knows about the Hero of Ferelden’s involvement in my success. But I digress. What do you need made?”

Erik grabbed his rifle and laid it on the table, followed by a magazine and a single round. He pried the bullet from its casing using a vice and carefully poured the gunpowder on the table.

“This is a weapon from my world,” he explained, “It fires projectiles like these using an explosive powder that drives the projectile, this bullet, down the barrel faster than the speed of sound.”

Dagna’s eyes widened at the implication.

“I’m going to give you the formula to black powder as a start,” he continued, “Figure out how to make my bullets and the explosive powder in them, and the formula for the gunpowder is yours to keep.”

Dagna frowned. “That shouldn’t be too hard, especially if you’re really going to give me the formula to gaatlok. Where’s the catch?” Erik looked up from where he was scrawling the formula to black powder on a piece of parchment.

“Black powder’s ingredients are all able to be found naturally. My world graduated from that over a century ago; the gunpowder in my rounds is completely synthetic and I have no idea how it’s made.”

She smiled. ‘Well, I’ve always liked a challenge. Anything else?”

“Just one more thing. There’s a device known as a suppressor in my world. My weapon is loud, and suppressors dampen the sound. It goes on the end of the barrel. Figure out how to make me one and I’ll let you toy with my rifle on the condition you don’t break anything.”

Dagna tapped a finger to her chin for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “I can do you one better. If I can make the ammunition for your weapon, I can probably imbue a silencing enchantment into them. No sound at all. If I can’t, I’ll see if I can make you this suppressor.”

Erik heaved a sigh in relief. “Why Orzammar doesn’t allow surface dwarves to be Paragons is beyond me.”

Erik thought he said something wrong because Dagna’s lips quivered and she became teary-eyed.

“I’m sorry,’ he backtracked, “I–”

“No, no,” she cut him off in a watery voice, “It’s not what you think. I left for the surface willingly. I love what I do. But I’ve met so much opposition just because I’m a dwarf. In the first hour I’ve been here, I’ve been welcomed with open arms, been given carte blanche to craft what I want, gifted the formula to black powder, given the opportunity to work with technology from another world, and then compared to the Paragons. I’d heard the Inquisition was accepting, but I…” she trailed off and sat on a stool.

Evelyn gave a sad smile and sat next to her. “When I heard it was you that took the post as Arcanist, I was thrilled. I’ve read your work. It’s ingenious. A man from another world has been singing your praises since he mentioned an arcanist. I don’t care that you’re a dwarf. I care that you’re given a place to work as freely as you wish.”

Erik and Evelyn gave Dagna a moment. After a minute or two, she wiped her eyes and took a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” she finally heaved, “I don’t know why I was so emotional there.”

“Don’t ever apologize for overcoming adversity,” Erik resolutely said, “If you come across enemies, that just means you’re heading in the right direction.”

Dagna laughed softly. “That’s one way of putting it. I’ll get to work on the ammunition right away. I promise I won’t let either of you down.”

“I never doubted it,” Evelyn smiled, “I have to go. I have a meeting with the Orlesian ambassador about our alliance with the Empire. If you need anything, you can come directly to me. If I’m in the field, you can go to any of my advisors for what you need. I don’t care if we have to go to the Black Emporium to get you resources. Welcome to the Inquisition, Dagna.”

Erik’s sister stood and swiftly strode from the undercroft.

“There is one other thing, but it’s not pressing,” Erik added.

“Oh? What is it?” Dagna asked excitedly.

He jerked his head over to a corner of the undercroft and they walked away from Harritt. Erik sat on a crate and prepared to parse some of the information he knew about Evelyn’s ultimate fate on to the Arcanist.

“The Anchor is powerful, and it allows the Inquisitor to do many things. But she won’t have it forever. Whatever Corypheus did when he attempted to remove it from her hand, it messed with it. Made it more powerful, sure, but she… Evelyn says she can feel it more often, now. It pulses every once in a while. It actually woke her briefly the other night on our way back from Halamshiral.”

Dagna chewed on her lip in thought. “Is it painful?”

Erik shrugged. “You’d have to ask her. I think it hurts her every once in a while, and she’s at least uncomfortable when she’s using it to seal a rift.”

Dagna clearly lost herself in thought as she stared off into the Frostbacks behind Erik. He really hoped he wasn’t ruining anything here.

“She’s going to lose part of her arm one day, Dagna. I haven’t told her. She has too much on her plate as it is,” he murmured sorrowfully.

“You want me to make her a new arm for when she loses her organic one,” she realized, “One that isn’t just a hunk of metal. One she can actually use.”

Erik nodded. “Is such a thing possible?”

“Of course. I’ll discreetly send you a list of materials and runes I’ll need to make the arm. Give me about a month and she’ll have a working appendage for when she losesher real one, Champion.”

“Thank you, Dagna,” Erik sighed in relief. He lurched forward and threw his arms around the dwarf, “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

She patted his back. “It’s the least I can do for the people that welcomed me so openly. If you need anything else in the near future, come down and let me know.”

* * *

Evelyn heard arguing in the forge. A man, and a woman. Definitely Cassandra. She sighed. If the Seeker was going at it with Varric again, she was going to order the two of them to stay away from one another. She prepared to force the two of them apart with magic if need be as she pushed open the door.

Varric wasn’t there. Instead, she found Cullen and Cassandra. Cullen was obviously upset, while Cassandra merely had a stubborn, sad, exhausted look on her face.

"You've asked for my opinion, and I've given it," Cassandra crossed her arms and gave Cullen _the glare,_ "Why would you expect it to change?"

"I expect you to keep your word,” Cullen barked, “It's relentless. I can't -"

"You give yourself too little credit," the Seeker shook her head sadly.

"If I'm unable to fulfill what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than admit--” Cullen stopped abruptly when he noticed Evelyn’s clearly confused presence. He sighed, then with his head hung, strode heavily past her.

“Forgive me,” he murmured with absolute sorrow.

Evelyn frowned with worry. He was pale as a corpse, with dark bags beneath his eyes and sweat beading down his neck. She could have sworn his hands were shaking violently. Evelyn looked at Cassandra expectantly

"And people say _I’m_ stubborn. This is ridiculous," Cassandra huffed in disbelief as she met Evelyn’s gaze, “Cullen told you he's no longer taking lyrium?”

“Yes, and I respect his decision.” It was more than that, she kept to herself. It meant that Cullen was no longer a Templar _at all_. It meant that Erik’s foretelling of a happy life for her was, indeed, a possible one, and not something he’d said in the moment to uplift her spirits. It meant that the kiss they shared before the Winter Palace and their dance during their last night at Halamshiral had actually meant something.

“As do I,” Cassandra agreed as she stared past Evelyn and toward the door, “Not that he's willing to listen.” Evelyn cocked her head in confusion.

The Seeker sighed. “Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.” Evelyn’s heart leaped into her throat and then plunged into her stomach as she opened her mouth to protest.

Cassandra held up a hand, forestalling her words. “I refused. It's not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He's come so far.”

“Why didn't he come to me?” she asked, hurt bleeding into her voice.

“We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers. And he wouldn't want to...” Cassandra sighed and her face softened “Risk your disappointment.”

Evelyn had never felt more stubborn in her life. “Is there anything we can do to change his mind?"

Cassandra smiled. “If anyone could, it's you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him, for that matter. He cares for you, more than I believe even he knows. Your words would mean more than anything I could ever say.”

Cassandra turned her piercing gaze to the forge, watching the flames dance and lick at the stones above them. "Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash,” she glanced at Evelyn briefly as she moved the Seeker’s side, “Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself – and anyone who would follow suit – that it's possible. He can do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall."

"Talk to him. Decide if now is the time."

Evelyn was prepared for a very tense conversation. She was not prepared for things flying at her head. She opened the door as a lacquered box containing a glass vial hit the wall next to her. Both box and vial shattered, launching bits of wood and glass everywhere.

Cullen stared at her, his mouth agape in shock and horror. "Maker's breath. I didn't hear you enter. I –” he dropped his head in shame as he leaned on his desk, "Forgive me."

"Cullen, if you need to talk..." Evelyn approached as tentatively as she would approach a rabid dog. She closed the door to ensure no one heard the details of their conversation.

"You don't have to –" Cullen stumbled and began to collapse as he approached. Only the side of the desk broke his fall, and Evelyn was at his side before she even realized.

“I never meant for this to interfere,” he sighed heavily.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked with worry. She thought about using a small healing spell, but there was no physical injury. It was almost like he was ill, or that his body was fighting itself.

"Yes..." he leaned his weight onto the desk and squeezed his eyes in pain, "I don't know."

Evelyn placed her hand on his cheek before even realizing it; the strain in his brow relaxed ever so slightly as she did so. He didn’t open his eyes, and it was for the best; he couldn’t see Evelyn wince at the clammy, unnaturally cold feeling of his skin. She smoothed her features before he opened his eyes. They were foggy and wild.

“I don’t think I ever told you what happened at Ferelden's Circle,” he nearly stammered.

She shook her head. “You don’t have to, Cullen.”

He ignored her. “It was taken over by abominations. The Templars…” he stood of his own strength and began to pace, “My friends – were slaughtered. I was tortured. For weeks. The demons… they did things to me that I will never forget. They tried to break my mind, and I –”

He laughed erratically. "How can you be the same person after that?” Cullen took a shaky breath and ran a hand down his face, “Still, I wanted to serve. So they sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in an unholy madness. Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died by the hundreds in the streets.”

Her Commander turned to face her, his hands trembling. "Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?"

“Of course I can. I–”

“Don't. You should be questioning what I've done.” Evelyn blinked at the comment. He was right, she should be. She had, in the past. But for reasons unknown to her, the thought never crossed her mind. It hadn’t for months. All that mattered was that Cullen was in pain, physically and mentally, and that hurt her more than it rationally should.

He shook his head and began pacing once more as she sat on his desk. “I thought this would be better. That I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me...” he violently flung his chair across the room, “How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause…”

Cullen’s voice began to tremble more than his body. “I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it.”

He put his fist through his bookcase, and it seemed the action sapped all the energy and rage he had left.

“I should be taking it.”

Evelyn strode toward him as he hung against the wood and ran small circles with her thumb at the base of his neck. “This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what _you_ want?”

He didn’t respond at first; then after the tensest moment of her life, he finally spoke.

“No,” he moaned as tears began to freely flow. Evelyn turned him gently toward her and wrapped her arms around his torso. After a moment, he returned the gesture, burying his face in her neck as she slowly mussed his hair and placed her chin on his shoulder.

“But… these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure this...”

“You can,” she whispered. She felt his head shake against her neck.

“I don’t know if that’s true anymore.” Evelyn pulled away from him slightly and looked him in the eye.

“Do you know what Erik said to me after my time at Redcliffe?” she asked, “He said that he’d always be open to talk about anything. Everyone here has seen things and had things happen to them that they wish hadn’t happened. None may be worse as yours, but we can at least relate on some level. I know I can. You just have to accept help. I care about you more than I ever thought I would, Cullen. Just because it’s your burden doesn’t mean you have to bear it alone. _Let me help_.”

After a long moment, he took a deep breath and nodded, pressing his forehead to hers. “All right.”

* * *

They were descending the mountains slowly. The Commander felt… lighter somehow. Like a weight he didn’t even know was there was lifted from his shoulders. In the man’s pack was a scroll telling of a ritual. Any mage could perform it.

“Your aid with this endeavor means more than you could possibly imagine,” he said with sincerity.

“Of course,” the Darkspawn responded in a wispy voice. His breath crackled as he inhaled, “You’ve kept my workings secret. An alliance works both ways.”

“Regardless, you didn’t have to come to the surface to aid us,” the man argued.

“On the contrary, I felt it was necessary,” said the Darkspawn, “I understand the need for freedom, young one. More than anyone else alive, I know it.”

They stopped, overlooking the Volca Sea. A town stood on the other end of the inlet, some ten or fifteen miles away. They would rest there, and then they would continue on.

“This is as far as I can continue with you,” the Darkspawn wheezed, “I have much work to do in the Deep Roads. I wish you well on your journey, my friend.”

“And I wish the same to you,” the man nodded. And just like that, the Darkspawn was gone.

“By my ass hairs, I never thought I’d see the day when that sodding alliance would pay off,” a dwarf laughed as he scratched the mabari between the ears. He adjusted his greataxe on his shoulders, “But, then again, you always did have more foresight than I did.”

“Foresight?” the man laughed, “No, that wasn’t foresight. That was not wanting to fight a flying Darkspawn.”

“I’m just glad we won’t be able to hear that blasted song,” the other dwarf said, her tattoos faded with time.

“I agree. If it means I can give that shemlen a hard time for as long as I want, I’m happy,” the elf threw in.

“I thought _he_ was giving _you_ a hard time,” the dwarf with the axe laughed, “How long has it been now since you two finally got over yourselves and did the deed? Five years? Six?”

“Seven, you pig,” the elf responded, “By Mythal, will you ever change?”

“Enough,” the Commander ordered endearingly, “We have a long journey ahead of us. I say we stop in that town for the night and celebrate, then we move on.”

“If by celebrate, you mean drink, I’m game,” the dwarf with the axe smiled, “Let’s see if we can drink their tavern dry this time.”

“You already tried that after Amaranthine,” the tattooed dwarf pointed out, “I remember having to carry your sorry ass back into the keep.”

“He tried it after Denerim, too,” the man laughed, “I remember dragging him to bed, and I was injured.”

“Well, I remember a sodding good time both times,” the dwarf defended.

“Your ‘sodding good time’ usually results in a bar fight,” the elf pointed out.

“The best kind of good time.”

They continued their descent, picking over rocks and outcroppings and avoiding the occasional cliff. Before any of them knew it, the sun was beginning to set and they were merely a mile or two from the town. The mabari sniffed at the rosewood ring on the man’s finger.

“Can you sense her?” the tattooed dwarf asked. The Commander closed his eyes, focusing on the ever-present feeling the ring gave off. He could picture her in his mind’s eye. Raven hair, porcelain skin, otherworldly yellow eyes. Tongue sharp as a whip and wit even sharper. He could almost smell her hair, could taste her lips, feel the silkiness of her skin beneath his calloused fingertips.

He pictured their son. His mother’s nose and ears and his own hair and jaw. His eyes a mix of his mother’s and his. Curiosity like no other, unending kindness, and intelligence beyond that of a mortal being. The Commander’s boy would nearly be a young man by now. His little man. He missed both so much; it had been far too long. But he had gone on this journey for them, and he swore he would return.

Rabbit whimpered at his side as he felt a warm tear trickle down his cheek.

“Well? Do you know where she is?” the elf pressed. The man opened his eyes.

“They’re in the Frostbacks. I can’t say exactly where. I’ll know when we get closer.”

“East, then,” the bearded dwarf grunted, “That’s enough for me. Let’s go rest up and celebrate. Then we’ll get you home to your family, Aedan.”

Aedan Cousland glanced down at Oghren. His friend. His loud, drunkard, brash, crass, unflinchingly loyal friend for a decade. They’d been through so much together. They’d crossed the Dead Trenches, stopped a civil war, led an army, and stormed the gates of a burning city together. They killed a god together. They stopped a civil war within their own enemy, made an unlikely alliance with what they now knew was a Magister Sidereal. And now, they’d undertaken an endeavor that every one of his brethren in arms said was impossible, and they’d succeeded.

He glanced east. The shadow of the mountains seemed to point the way their journey would take them. Back through previously uncharted territory, through the Western Approach, across Orlais, and to the Frostbacks. It was such a long way, but for the first time in over a year, he pictured his witch and their boy and smiled.

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Coming Home by Iron Maiden - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5H-QRC10OE
> 
> Aedan will now be a POV character. That is all.


	35. I Want Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull makes a decision. Erik gets high and goes off-script. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to back days, baby! Stay tuned, because I'm posting two today.
> 
> Boilerplate Bioware/EA own Dragon Age disclaimer.

Erik’s time waiting for the Qunari to show up was rather peaceful. It mostly involved drinking, working out, time with Leliana, _time with Leliana_ , and trying to figure out exactly how much he could sense the eluvian network he acquired. He narrowed the nearest one down to somewhere in the mountains about thirty miles northwest far from any roads. So that wasn’t an option.

He also formed an unbreakable bond with Dorian through a n attempt at a night of drinking . Which may or may not have been  derail ed by Hawke spiking their dinners with a psychedelic substance.

It started off like any normal afternoon. Erik was wandering the castle aimlessly, as he was wont to do, when he ran into Dorian rearranging the library for the sixth time.

“They keep putting it in alphabetical order,” Dorian growled, “I don’t understand why. It makes far more sense to categorize it.”

“Just bring it up with Ev,” Erik suggested, “She’ll understand.”

“I did. The Chantry Mothers are adamant about using their own idiotic system,” the Tevene huffed.

Erik sighed. “They won’t be a problem forever.  Let’s go.”

Dorian froze and studied Erik. “Where, pray tell, are we going?”

“Where else? To drink until we figure out something to do.”

“And you chose me for this endeavor why?” he pressed.

“Because you’re fun,” Erik shrugged, “Because Evelyn is stuck in a meeting and Leliana is stuck with her and I don’t want to be there. And I’ve been meaning to befriend you anyways.”

“Anyone else I would jump on the opportunity,” Dorian laughed as he followed the offworlder down the stairs, “Coming from you, it just sounds like I’m going to die soon.”

“I promise you aren’t going to die any time I know of,” he rolled his eyes, “I just want someone to get plastered with.”

“You could have chosen Hawke. Or Isabela. Or Sera, for that matter. Or even Varric.”

“Hawke and Isabela were… preoccupied. Sera is off doing something regarding Verchiel with Cullen, and Varric is doing a personal favor for Evelyn,” he explained, “Plus, I don’t want to drink with them. I want to go drink with _you_.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Dorian smiled.

They found themselves in the Herald’s Rest not long after, ordering food and drink. He always liked the tavern. There was something warm and homely about it. All around them were soldiers, scouts, and agents putting their feet up after a long deployment or mission. It reminded him of the various dive bars in Fayetteville that his team would always haunt. Yes, this was his element. Surrounded by tired, weary people looking for peace in the middle of a storm.

“I must say it’s rather odd,” Dorian said as they tackled their first round of drinks.

Erik put his mead down. “What’s odd?”

“Well, they named this place after our illustrious Inquisitor,” Dorian pointed out, “Or one of her titles, at least. But you, my friend, have nothing here named after yourself.”

“It’s for the best,” he shrugged, “According to Josephine, people are a bit scared of me.”

“Oh? And why would that be?”

“To start?” he drawled as he kicked his legs out, “I know the future. People apparently view me as cold and calculating, and that’s only worsened by the fact that I’m sleeping with Leliana. There have been reports from scouts and soldiers that I’m ‘excessively aggressive’ during combat. I’ve been known to threaten my allies to keep secrets, I kill without question, and I manipulate events like a puppet master.”

Dorian blinked. “I’ve seen everything else you just listed, but I’ve yet to see that last one.”

“Oh, I’m pulling strings. More than anyone really knows.”

“Well, that’s unnerving,” the Tevene finally said after a minute, “Let’s switch topics.”

Erik shrugged. “Up to you, man.”

“You were military in your world.”

“Yep,” Erik took another deep drink of mead.

“And what did that entail?”

“What didn’t it entail?” he laughed, “I’ve done everything from simple direct action missions to training people to subterfuge to diplomacy.”

“And was that normal on your world for the military?”

Erik sighed and explained exactly what his unit was on Earth,  going through four more bottles of alcohol in the meantime . Toward the end of the explanation, he noticed their food had been delivered, and Hawke was sitting at the table with them.

“Hello, you two miscreants,” she smiled, “Enjoying yourselves?”

“It’s definitely been enjoyable, not having to deal with political machinations and assassinations,” Erik admitted.

“What, you don’t find assassination fun?” Hawke jabbed with a smile.

“Only if I’m the one doing it,” he smiled. They sat in silence and ate their dinner, an elk steak with mushrooms and carrots. The mushrooms tasted off, but the rest of the meal was –

Erik froze with the fork just in front of his mouth. The mushrooms weren’t cooked. He turned his gaze toward Marian, who was suppressing a grin. Then he looked at Dorian.

“Did your mushrooms taste off?” he asked tentatively. Dorian thought for a moment.

“Everything tastes off this far south,” he murmured, “But come to think of it, they did.”

Erik dropped his fork and knife and whipped around to Marian.

“Marian. What did you do?” he demanded. She failed in hiding her smile and openly giggled.

“Have fun,” she said, standing up and leaving. Erik put the pieces together quickly.

“How long ago did you finish the mushrooms?” he asked Dorian quickly. The man blinked at his slightly panicked tone and stammered for a moment.

“Maybe five minutes ago. Why?”

“We have to go,” he said, grabbing the bottle of whiskey Dorian had ordered and leaving a small pile of gold on the table. He darted out of the tavern, the Tevene right on his heel.

“Will you explain what’s going on?” he asked.

“Hawke switched our mushrooms out with fucking _shrooms_ ,” he explained, “We have about half an hour before we’re sky-high and tripping our dicks off.”

“Please use terms common to this world.”

Erik didn’t stop walking. He  almost ran to his rooms and grabbed his phone and speaker, turning both on. As soon as his phone booted up, he started a timer.

“Those weren’t normal mushrooms. They’re what my world calls magic mushrooms. They make you hallucinate.”

Dorian paled significantly. “Oh, dear.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Dorian shook his head. He was clearly panicking. Erik took a deep breath.

“Okay, that’s fine. I have,” he sighed, “Shrooms are harmless. They’ll last about six hours before we’re back down to Earth. We have… twenty-eight minutes to mentally prepare ourselves.”

“Is it… enjoyable, at least?” the mage asked tentatively.

“It can be. The best way to not have a bad time is not thinking about having a bad time,” Erik said, calming down slightly. Things were going to be okay. He’d taken shrooms before. He’d done a lot more acid, but he’d done shrooms. He knew what to expect.

“This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Dorian pressed.

“Of course not,” Erik said, finally calm, “The worst that can happen is that we make fools of ourselves. We’re about to have a great time.”

“As long as you’re certain it won’t kill me.”

“It won’t,” he promised as he scrolled through his music, “Hey, have I ever told you about a band called Tool?”

There was no denying it. They were both high as kites, and Dorian was loving every second of it.

“The stones keep moving,” he laughed, “And everything looks like a painting.”

“She gave us a lot of fucking shrooms,” Erik murmured. And she really had. Everything was so colorful; things were both moving and stationary at the same time. They’d stopped listening to Tool an hour prior, switched to Amorphis, and stopped listening to music entirely twenty minutes prior.

“I don’t know why I was so worried,” Dorian said with a smile, “This is wonderful.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it because we have…” Erik checked his phone, “Four more hours, give or take.”

“Fuck, _four more hours_? It feels like we’ve already been here for…” Dorian trailed off, a look of absolute epiphany on his face.

“Dorian?” Erik asked.

“Time is an illusion,” he realized, “It’s relative! That’s why Alexius’s magic worked. Time is a… is a…”

“A flat circle?” Erik provided with a sideways grin.

“Yes! Exactly,” Dorian shot up, pointing his finger at Erik in an almost cartoonish manner, “It comes back to itself, no matter what.”

Erik didn’t respond, and after a minute, Dorian looked at him.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “If this gets to be stifling we can just –”

“No, no, no, not like that,” the Tevene sighed, “I mean with your life. You’ve been displaced from your world, thrust into a situation that you thought was merely a story, and fell in love with one of the characters. But what about when this is all over? What happens when Corypheus falls?”

“There’s always a new crisis, Dorian,” Erik sighed, “That’s something I learned back on Earth, and it holds true no matter what world you’re on.”

“True, but at some point, you have to put it down and let others carry on the fight,” he argued, “And you’ve said before that there’s very little chance of returning home. So what do you want to do with your life, when you’ve stopped fighting?”

Erik thought for a moment. How long, he wasn’t sure. But he knew Dorian made a good point. He couldn’t keep going forever. He’d already had too many close calls, had too many situations where he should have died. Erik was tired. He kept fighting because he knew nothing else, but he was tired.

“I want to get married,” he said finally.

“To our songbird on the other side of the castle, I assume?” the mage joked. Erik leveled a look at him, and Dorian gave a small laugh.

“Anything else?”

“I don’t really know,” Erik shrugged, a hint of fear in his voice. Dorian looked at him sadly.

“You have an entire world of opportunities out there, you know,” he said softly, “And knowing you, you could do anything you wanted. But a loving marriage is a good start.”

T he trip  took them outside, for a while, where they merely watched people for a while, and then, surprisingly, back to the tavern,  where they found their own little corner and watched the walls do funny things. An indeterminate amount of time later, Erik eyed Bull, nursing an absolutely gargantuan mug of ale. Dorian was watching him, too, though more discreetly.

“I know you want to say something,” Erik finally broke the silence. Dorian sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“What’s there to say? I’m the son of a Magister, and he’s a spy for my country’s enemy,” he retorted sharply, “He could be using me, for all I know.”

“So if he weren’t a spy, you’d make a move?”

“Of course. But he won’t leave the Qun. It’s all he has,” Dorian argued. Just as he said that, Krem and Dalish sat with Bull, who smiled sadly at the two Chargers.

“It’s not all he has,” Erik murmured.

The door to the tavern flew open, and Leliana and Evelyn stalked in, scanning the Herald’s Rest before spotting them. They stormed over.

“There you are. Where have you been?” Evelyn demanded. Dorian giggled helplessly.

“Look, Erik, it’s your surrogate sister and the woman you want to marry,” he said between laughter. Leliana’s eyes momentarily widened before she shifted her weight and leveled a gaze at Erik.

“You haven’t come to bed,” she said after a moment, “I was worried something happened. Where have you been?”

Erik thought for a moment. “We started here, then back to our rooms, then we wandered around for a bit. The lower courtyard first, then the garden.”

“It was the other way around,” Dorian corrected, “Garden first, then courtyard.”

“Oh, right,” he nodded, “So then we stared at the mountains for, like, twenty minutes, and then we came here and watched the walls melt.”

“I’m not going to ask what any of that meant,” Evelyn sighed, “I spoke with Dagna earlier. She did it. You have your ammunition and everything else you asked for. Bull informed me an hour ago that his contacts are at the Storm Coast. They’re waiting on us. We have to go.”

“We can’t go tonight,” Erik protested, “I’d probably fall off my horse right now.”

Leliana stepped forward and gripped his jaw between her thumb and forefinger. She bent at the waist and studied his eyes for a moment, her nose merely inches from his.

“You’re really pretty,” Erik said after a moment. She didn’t respond, and she drew herself back up.

“You haven’t been drinking much,” she said, “I can barely smell anything on your breath. But your pupils are unnaturally large. Have you been poisoned?”

“In a way,” he deflected.

“Hawke fed us hallucinogenic drugs,” Dorian explained, “We’ve been like this for two and a half hours.”

“She _what_?” Evelyn shouted, bringing the tavern to silence momentarily. Erik looked around, suddenly feeling hyper-conscious. The murmuring and conversation went back to normal.

“It’s not a big deal,” he soothed, “We’ll be fine in the morning, but we aren’t going anywhere tonight.”

“Now, you ladies can stay,” Dorian added, “But both of you are being… what was that word you used earlier, Erik?”

“Buzzkill,” Erik said, “They’re ruining our vibe.”

“Yes, you’re ruining our vibe, whatever that means!” Dorian agreed, “So either relax with us or let us enjoy this last hour and a half and we’ll be ready in the morning.”

Evelyn looked like she wanted to protest, but Leliana put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head.

“Fine,” she finally snapped, “But you had better both be in fighting shape tomorrow.” The two women spun and left.

“I love you both!” Erik shouted after them. Dorian dropped his face into his hands and shook his head.

“I’m still seeing things if I close my eyes,” he mentioned, “Is that normal?”

“Yep, they’re called closed eye visuals,” the offworlder reassured him, “Now come on. I have someone to speak with.”

E rik and Dorian climbed the stairs to the second floor and wandered over to Sera’s room. The door was closed and Erik stood staring at the wood grain for a moment before speaking.

“Oh Sera!” he sang as he knocked, “I’m respecting your privacy by knocking but asserting my authority as an asshole by coming in anyway!” And then he booted the door open in the most exaggerated motion he could manage.

“What the fuck?” the elf snapped, “It’s late, shouldn’t you be banging your Spymaster?”

“Dorian and I are high as fuck and we aren’t done raising hell yet,” Erik waved her comment off, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Yeah? Get it out then,” she said, crossing her arms. Erik and Dorian stepped in and closed the door.

“You heard about the Qun thing going on tomorrow?” Sera nodded, so he continued, “Were you planning on going?”

“Nah, I’m working on that Verchiel thing with Cullen,” she said, “Why, you want me?”

“Well, it would help. You’ve stolen shit before, and I’m planning on stealing something really, really big.”

Her lips twisted into a cunning grin. “Oh, yeah? What’s the take?”

“Quick question before I tell you,” he held up his hand, “Can you swim?”

* * *

True to their word, Dorian and Erik were ready to travel the next day. She’d already sent word out to procure a small boat for Erik’s venture, which he refused to share the details of . Sera was also tagging along, as were Isabela and Hawke, per Erik’s request. He was  bringing a rather large cache of black powder in a waterproof bag, which he kept out of the sight of Bull. He had another waterproof bag made for his rifle. For Evelyn’s personal team, she had chosen Dorian, Cole, Bull, and Solas.  The Chargers had already rode out the night prior to prepare.  She wasn’t looking forward to the Storm Coast, but Erik promised her it wasn’t that bad, and that if everything went well, they’d come home happy and without the Blight. She wasn’t quite sure why he added that last part.

They arrived in the Storm Coast three days later, and when she sent Bull and Cole to find the Qunari encampment, she confronted Erik.

“Before we go any further, I want to know what it is you’re planning,” she demanded, “Why have you brought every thief that can swim with us, and why do you have a bag of gaatlok?”

Erik adjusted his equipment. “Remember the dreadnought that Bull and I mentioned? I’m going to steal it.”

“You’re going to steal a fucking Qunari dreadnought?” she asked in shock.

“Yep. Going full pirate,” he smiled, “Which is why I recruited the _actual_ pirate in the Inquisition. And her wife. And Sera, who was a professional thief.”

Evelyn sighed. “I should have expected this. And I know by now to not try and stop you.  Just don’t get yourself or anyone else killed, okay?”

“Ev, I don’t think you realize what I’ve done in my life,” Erik laughed, “Stealing a ship from a bunch of dudes with swords? This is chump change.”

“But aren’t dreadnoughts filled with black powder?” she pointed out.

“Black powder isn’t sensitive to shock,” he explained, “I can shoot it all I want, but it won’t explode. You gotta light it. Which is why I took the silenced rounds with me.”

“And the gaatlok you brought?”

He merely winked at her. “You’ll see.”

Bull led them just shy of the encampment not long after.

"All right, our Qunari contact should be here to meet us," he said, looking around.

"He is," an elven man with brown hair and sporting green armor climbed down from the wet rocks, "Good to see you again, Hissrad."

"Gatt!" Iron Bull had a genuine smile as he smiled at the elf, the tension in the air momentarily gone, "Last I heard, you were still in Seheron."

The elven man shrugged. "They finally decided I'd calmed down enough to go back out into the world."

Bull turned toward Evelyn. "Boss, this is Gatt. We worked together in Seheron."

_It seems like you were closer than just working together,_ she thought, realizing how twisted the Qun was to send a friend of Bull’s to this meeting.

Gatt nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor. Hissrad's reports say you're doing good work."

"Iron Bull's name is Hissrad?" she asked. Erik may have mentioned it, but she had never thought much of it.

"Under the Qun, we use titles, not names," Gatt explained.

"My title was 'Hissrad,' because I was assigned to secret work. You can translate it as 'Keeper of Illusions,' or..."

"'Liar.' It means liar," Erik called from where he was donning his armor.

Bull grunted. "Well, you don't have to say it like that."

Evelyn decided to keep suspicions to herself and maintain strict professionalism. "I look forward to working together."

"Hopefully, this will help both our peoples," Gatt agreed, "Tevinter is dangerous enough without the influence of this Venatori cult."

"Yes,” Dorian drawled, his voice pouring with sarcasm and distaste, “Filthy, decadent brutes, the lot of them. I'm certain life would be so much better for all of us under the Qun."

Gatt's eyes narrowed at the Altus. "It was for me after the Qunari rescued me from slavery in Tevinter. I was eight. The Qun isn't perfect, but it gave me a better life."

"Yes, one free from all that pointless free will and independent thought,” Dorian barreled on, “Such an improvement."

Evelyn decided to put a stop to it before he jeopardized the mission. “The Imperium and the Qunari both have their problems."

Dorian opened his mouth to protest, then shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose."

"Look, I'm not here to convert anyone," the viddathari smoothed as he held up his hands, "All I care about is stopping this red lyrium from reaching Minrathous."

"With this stuff, the Vints could make their slaves into an army of magical freaks. We could lose Seheron..." Iron Bull shook his head in worry, "And see a giant Tevinter army come marching back down here."

"The Ben-Hassrath agree. That's why we're here," he led them over to a map of the region, "Our dreadnought is safely out of view, and out of range of any Venatori mages onshore. We'll need to eliminate the Venatori, then signal the dreadnought so it can come in and take out the smuggler ship."

"There might be Venatori mages on the ship as well. If the dreadnought can't handle them..." Evelyn worried.

"It's unlikely there will be more than two or three mages on the ship,” Gatt reasoned, “And they'll be dead by the third shot. On land, though, a half-dozen Venatori attacking the dreadnought from cover could do some serious damage."

They were either making too many assumptions or they knew more than they let on. She turned to Hissrad. “What do you think, Bull?"

He growled in frustration. “Don't know. I've never liked covering a dreadnought run. Too many ways for crap to go wrong. If our scouts underestimate the enemy numbers, we're dead. If we can't lock down the Venatori mages, the ship is dead."

He clicked his tongue. "It's risky."

"Riskier than letting red lyrium into Minrathous?" Gatt pointed out.

Evelyn decided further questioning wouldn’t mollify her nerves, so she decided to start. "Let's go hold up our end of this bargain, then."

"My agents suggested two possible locations the Venatori may be camped to guard the shore," he pointed to two locations, "There, and there. We'll need to split up and hit both at once."

"I'll come with you, boss,” Bull offered, “Krem can lead the Chargers. Let me fill him in. Come by when you're ready to move."

She turned to the rest of her team. None of them looked happy with the plan. The only one who seemed completely calm was Erik, who was playing with his shortsword.

Evelyn approached as Bull bantered with his men, but she knew better. He’d been with them long enough for her to tell when he was worried.

“He’ll be dead before he knows it,” Skinner was saying.

“Just… pay attention, all right?” Bull said in an apprehensive voice, “The Vints want this red lyrium shipment bad.”

“Yes, I know,” Krem brushed him off, “Thanks, mother.”

“Qunari don’t have mothers, remember?” he tried to joke.

Krem dropped the cheeriness and became serious. “We’ll be fine, chief.”

Bull took a deep breath. “All right, Chargers. Horns up!” They repeated the saying and moved off to secure their position.

“Ready whenever you are, Boss,” Iron Bull turned to her after watching his piecemeal family move away.

“Let’s go, then,” she nodded. He followed her and the rest of the team as they moved through the wet environment with Gatt.

"You gave your Chargers the easier target," Gatt jabbed at Bull with a smirk.

He didn’t give anything away. "You think?"

"Lower and farther from the smuggler's ship? It's much less likely to be heavily defended."

Bull shrugged and hefted his weapon as they approached the first group of enemies. "Suppose we'll do the heavy lifting, then. Just like old times."

They moved on the first group of Venatori swiftly. Sera dropped two with arrows before anyone could even get a shot off, and Erik beheaded a third while Isabela, Cole and Hawke slit the throats of three more. Bull split another man in half; Dorian was clearly showing off, using the wetness of the soil to conduct his lightning spell and electrocute the final two.

As they moved up, Gatt kept glancing at Cole. Finally, he spoke. "Iron Bull's reports say you're a demon."

"I'm trying not to be,” Cole responded in a small voice, “Sometimes it's hard. I want to kill a lot of people, but I don't."

"Why? Did the Inquisitor bind you?" Gatt said, glancing at Evelyn’s staff. She returned the look with a withering glare.

Cole, for one, was simply confused. "Because it's not right."

"Hissrad, how can you work with a demon?" he scoffed. Bull merely shrugged.

"He's all right."

It wasn’t long until Gatt turned his attention to Solas. "I don't see any tattoos, but you're carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle?"

"No,” he responded, clearly having none of it, “And I would prefer not to discuss it."

"Have I done something to offend you?" the Viddathari asked in confusion.

"You joined the Qun."

"After they rescued me from slavery," Gatt reasoned.

"And put you into something worse," Solas snapped with venom, "A slave may always struggle for freedom, but you among the Qun have been taught not to think."

“Solas,” Bull warned in a tight voice, “Not the time.”

It was for the best that Bull cut off the argument because they came upon the second group of Venatori soon after. The second skirmish was much shakier than the first. They already clearly knew they were coming and were prepared. Solas had to throw barriers up left and right, and it looked as though it was straining him. Evelyn slipped up and allowed one enemy without a helm to get too close; she swung her staff into his temple and he went down with a crunch. Erik was fighting off two at once until Cole materialized and killed one. Hawke seemed to be the only one completely unfazed; she was a whirlwind of death as she darted between enemies, incapacitating them left and right with lightning-fast swipes of her daggers. Her actions allowed them to stay afloat: once the enemies were down and bleeding, everyone else could finish the Venatori off.

Bull took a swing with his axe at the last Venatori, but it glanced off the man’s shield. He was hit in the head by the flat end of Bull’s axe head, but that was enough. Evelyn could hear the man’s neck snap from twenty feet away.

She took a deep breath. “Everyone clear?” she called. Once she knew her teams were safe, she nodded to Bull; incidentally, she hadn’t seen Gatt fight at all.

"We're clear, Gatt," Bull called.

"Right. Signaling the dreadnought," he said as he grabbed a small tube from his waist. He used a burning ember from the nearby campfire to light it, and a red flare was sent into the sky.

Bull laughed with pride. "Chargers already sent theirs up. See 'em down there?"

"I knew you gave them the easier job," Gatt deadpanned as he looked first at the Chargers in their position, then toward the sea.

"There's the dreadnought," Bull called to Evelyn, "That brings back memories."

She climbed to the bluff next to Bull and stared in awe at the ship. It was massive, three times larger than any ship she’d ever seen and almost entirely made of metal. It had no sails, yet moved on its own. Erik was going to try and steal _that_?

If she thought the ship was impressive, watching it shoot at the smuggler ship in the bay was even more shocking. In mere seconds, it had completely scuttled and sunk the Venatori craft. Bull let out a laugh, then his eye darted to the Charger’s position and his smile fell.

“Fuck.”

Over a dozen Venatori mages were advancing across the beachhead to the Chargers’ position. Well out of her range, or anyone’s, for that matter.

Evelyn turned toward Bull. "They've still got time to fall back if you signal them now."

"Yeah," he nodded, reaching for his signal horn. Gatt put a hand on his wrist.

"Your men need to hold that position, Bull," he said in a tense voice.

"They do that, they're dead," the Qunari growled.

"And if they don't, the Venatori retake it and the dreadnought is dead," Gatt shouted, "You'd be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari. You'd be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!"

That seemed to get through to Bull. His eye squeezed shut and he looked away, clearly torn between loyalty and love for his men.

"With all you've given the Inquisition, half the Ben-Hassrath think you've betrayed us already,” Gatt said, getting angry, “I stood up for you, Hissrad. I told them you would _never_ become Tal-Vashoth."

"They're my men," Bull said as he gazed across the beachhead.

"I know,” Gatt sympathized, “But you need to do what's right, Hissrad… for this alliance, and for the Qun."

Evelyn was tense as she watched The Iron Bull make the most important decision of his life. She knew if he stayed loyal to the Qun, Erik would likely kill him. If he didn’t, he would have Leliana do it without Evelyn’s consent. She didn’t want to see that. But she could see her friend was torn inside. He turned to look around at the rest of the group.

It was Hawke that was the voice of wisdom.

“Family is more important than anything, Bull,” she said in a warm voice, “I knew that when I lost mine. I didn’t have a choice. You do.”

Bull steeled his face and nodded, bringing the horn to his lips.

"Hissrad, don't!"

The horn rang across the bay, seemingly louder with the weight of the message it carried. Gatt looked crushed.

Bull smiled sadly. "They're falling back."

"All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are,” Gatt said, his voice empty, “For what? For this? For them?"

Evelyn spun on the Viddathari. He didn’t need this now. "His name is Iron Bull."

Gatt looked like he wanted to say something, but the words died in his throat.

"I suppose it is," he said quietly. The Viddathari moved away and down the slope at almost a run.

Bull didn’t watch him leave. "No way they'll get out of range. Won't be long now."

Evelyn turned to him. "Bull, when the dreadnought sinks…" she said, thinking of a rescue plan if Erik couldn’t secure the ship.

"Sinks?" Iron Bull said in a tight voice, as though he were fighting back tears, "Qunari dreadnoughts don't – do you hear that?"

Evelyn listened closely. A clicking was coming from their right. She turned to see Erik in a bush, his rifle firing in almost complete silence. Each shot killed one of the mages on the shore, and they were in complete disarray. Not a single one was able to fire a spell at the dreadnought. Before long, every one of the Venatori was dead. Erik hopped up and grabbed the bag full of gaatlok, pulling out what looked like a short wick. He lit it in the fire and waited for it to become dangerously short.

“Frag out, fuckers!” he shouted as he tossed it into the air from the side of the cliff. Erik grabbed both Bull’s and Evelyn’s shoulders and brought them down, making all three of them small. The bag exploded with a loud _BOOM_ , and then there was silence.

Bull looked at Erik. “What the  _fuck_ was that?” he hissed.

“To simulate the dreadnought exploding. Didn’t want Gatt to think something was off,” Erik explained as he worked at the straps on his armor, “I’m stealing it.”

As soon as it was off, he tossed the armor into a pile behind them and placed his rifle back into the waterproof bag. Evelyn saw Sera, Hawke, and Isabela doing the same with their armor. Bull seemed too shocked to even say anything.

Erik glanced down the steep slope leading to the beachhead, and Evelyn mirrored his actions. It wasn’t a sheer drop, but it was steep. He wasn’t seriously thinking of –

“We got our window, ladies,” Erik barked, “Let’s go!” And then he slid down the slope, Hawke, Isabela, and Sera close behind.

The rest of the group watched them slide smoothly down the wet slope and hit the shore running. The sun was already setting. The four sprinted across the rocky beach and toward an alcove, then they were out of sight.

Bull turned and looked at Evelyn.

“What the fuck just happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for I Want Out by Helloween - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOCBtt4lxvg
> 
> I don't know how the sequence with Dorian and Erik tripping on shrooms came about. It just did.  
> Also, if you're the kind of person that sacrifices the Chargers, I don't wanna be friends with you. Bull deserves his freedom and he deserves happiness with Dorian, and that is the Eleventh Commandment.


	36. Black Sails at Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and the LGBThieves commit piracy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter one. It was part of the previous chapter but it didn't mesh with the tone, so it became its own entity. I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Erik and the three thieves waited until the sun had completely set to launch their own ship. It was to be manned by a small crew of Harding’s scouts that had been sailors prior to joining the Inquisition, and the craft had been chosen for its speed and discretion. The ship, a small brigantine named _Silence_ , was painted completely black, with two sails, and sat at about thirty feet long. The crew sat together, quiet and composed, dressed in all black as they waited for the last rays of light to disappear.

“Sure you don’t wanna come, Lace?” he asked the ginger dwarf who was overseeing the proceedings. Harding merely shook her head.

“If I could swim, I would,” she shrugged, “I’m just here to make sure you guys set sail. Sister Leliana told you what to do?”

Erik nodded. “As soon as we secure the ship, we’re to signal the _Silence_. They’ll send a message to Leliana back at Skyhold and send a trusted crew to man it when we make port in whichever city we dock in.”

Harding nodded. “Looks like Leliana told you everything.”

“She’s my girlfriend, Lace,” Erik gave her a deadpan expression as he prepared a rope and grappling hook, “We tell each other everything.” And he was proud to say that. It was the first time in a relationship that he had complete trust. It felt great. He had one person he didn’t have to keep in the dark, and she didn’t judge him for his actions.

The dwarf blinked. “I have no idea how I’ve missed that.”

The crew was pushing the _Silence_ out of the shallow water and into the open bay. The rest of his small crew of gangsters was already aboard, so Erik grabbed the netting at the stern and climbed up.

“You’ve been in the field more than anyone,” Erik called, “It’d be easy to miss for you. I’ll send the signal when the dreadnought is ours.”

“Good luck,” she called. Erik gave her one last thumbs up and climbed aboard.

Erik sat on the deck with the rest of his team as they prepared their gear, the Storm Coast gradually sinking in the distance. Erik checked and double-checked his blades and rifle, and made sure his magazines weren’t going anywhere when they finally took a dunk in the Waking Sea.

“Will we be able to catch it?” Erik asked Isabela apprehensively. She gave him a nod, all her usual bravado gone and replaced with absolute professionalism.

“They’re definitely fast,” Isabela nodded, “The Arishok’s ship chased me in 9:31 Dragon. This seems to be the same class of ship. Normally, it would outpace us. But the winds are on our side, and I know the captain. She and her crew are very good at this, and the _Silence_ is a fast ship. She’ll get us there.”

Erik nodded. “Good. Second thing. If you’ve never swum in the open ocean before, be prepared. It’s a lot tougher than the coastline. Isabela, I’m going to assume you’re prepared, and Marian, since you married a pirate, I assume you know what you’re doing, too. Sera, you still okay with this?”

“I’ve been on boats before,” Sera defended, “I’ll be alright.”

“Good. Here’s the deal. We’re going to climb over the side of the ship and kill everyone aboard that doesn’t surrender,” he briefed, “If there are children, spare them. I’m going to assume it’s steam-powered, so we’ll figure out how to power it then take it to the port we decide is the best fit.”

“What’re you thinkin’ for the port?” Sera asked. Erik grunted in thought.

“Way I see it, we have a few options,” he said, “Val Royeaux is definitely the largest, and Jader is closest to Skyhold. But both of those are Orlesian, and our alliance with them is still fresh. Wouldn’t want to piss them off by acquiring a Qunari dreadnought.”

“What about Denerim?” Hawke suggested.

“I don’t know if that’s a good option either,” Erik sighed, “King Alistair is a Grey Warden, so he’s liable to be a bit irritable right now.”

“Why’s that?” Isabela asked before realizing Erik’s reasoning, “Oh, right. The False Calling.”

Erik nodded. “And I don’t know if Leliana could explain the situation in time. Plus, I don’t want to strain their friendship like that.”

“So Denerim’s out of the question,” Sera huffed, “Kirkwall?”

“Absolutely not,” Marian said firmly, “That’s worse than the other three. I fought off a horde of rampaging Qunari there and killed the Arishok. It doesn’t matter how much explaining we would do, Aveline might view it as another attack and preemptively strike.”

They sat in thought for a long moment before Isabela spoke up.

“Ostwick.”

Erik thought about the option. It made sense. No Qunari attack. Evelyn’s family, however distant, was from there. And they already had the support of the Teyrn of Ostwick. It was close enough to get a crew there quickly, and it wasn’t too far.

“Ostwick sounds good,” Hawke agreed, “If it’s too far for the Inquisition, we can contact the Raiders and they can handle the ship until the Inquisition gets there.”

“I wouldn’t risk going further north,” Isabela warned, “Ostwick is the best port until Rialto, and then we’re getting too close to Rivain. If the Qunari in Rivain see something is up, we’re fucked.”

“Ostwick it is, then,” Erik decided. He stood and marched over to the captain, a dark woman with tight braids in her black hair and a nose ring. Baubles and jewels were spattered throughout her hair, and her face was stern. She wore a tricorne atop her head and a thick, opulent coat over her shoulders.

“You decided where you’re taking the bugger when we catch her?” she asked. Erik nodded.

“Ostwick.” The captain raised an eyebrow.

“Good choice,” she nodded, “Ain’t the Inquisitor from there?”

“She is,” Erik confirmed, “Though she has a strained relationship with her family.”

The captain shrugged. “Suppose I could see why. No one wants to get shipped off to some jail by their parents.”

Erik was about to respond when the lookout reported.

“I see them!” he whisper-yelled, “We’ll be on them in about ten minutes.”

“You heard Kaddick,” the captain said to Erik, “Best get your team ready, Champion.”

Erik nodded and grabbed his equipment before returning to his team, signaling ten minutes as he did so. Each of the three women nodded and prepared their gear.

Those ten minutes were tense for him. He thought about what he was about to do. He knew it was going to be a weapon against the Qunari and Solas in the future, but he wasn’t sure how the operation would even go. His last solo op in Thedas had been a pyrrhic victory at best. Besides, he was a Green Beret, not a SEAL, and he was from a freefall team, not a dive team, so seaborne operations were rare for him if they happened at all. Even if he was on a dive team, African waters are warmer than what he was about to take a dip in. It was still winter in Thedas, even if it was nearing spring. The only thing that he had going for him in regards to the swim was that he grew up in Long Beach, so he was a strong swimmer.

But it wasn’t just a problem of the little swim he was about to take. There were even more unknowns than Therinfal here. He had no idea how many Qunari were aboard, and there were only four of them boarding. They could have a Saarebas. They could have _multiple_ Saarebas. The Qunari could have figured out firearms. They could scuttle the ship with them on board. There were so many variables, but he was past the point of no return at this point.

“One minute,” the captain informed him. Erik glanced up at the sky. The moons were obscured by clouds, giving them perfectly dark cover. Good. They were going to need it.

“Here,” the captain said, handing him a black Inquisition flag, “When you take the ship, raise this. It’ll be the signal.”

“Thirty seconds,” the first mate whispered. Erik stared up at the dreadnought. It looked similar to some of the ships the US Navy had, though much more rudimentary and much smaller. It had little in the way of paint and no name. They would have to change that; he’d heard it was bad luck to have a ship with no name.

“Standby to board,” Erik ordered. The four of them lined up on the starboard side as the _Silence_ pulled up to the ship. Erik handed Isabela the grappling hook, and she tested it in her hand briefly before twirling it for a moment and tossing it into the air.

A moment of quiet was given to them. The hook sailed over the handrail of the dreadnought and looped over it, latching itself onto the rope with barely a sound.

Isabela tested the rope, then wrapped it around her forearm, passing off the rest of the length to the rest of them, who mirrored her actions.

“Give yourself as little slack as possible,” she suggested, “The instant we hit the water we’ll lose speed. You don’t want your arm ripped off.”

“Alright,” Erik took a breath, “Let’s go commit piracy.”

The four of them dove off the deck at once. In an instant, Erik was blasted with unyielding, frigid cold water. But he could only think about that for a split-second because just as Isabela warned, he got yanked along the rope soon after. He could feel it tugging on his arm. His muscles strained under the pressure as he came up for air and gripped the rope with his other hand.

Erik glanced behind him. Hawke and Sera were holding on fine and looked no worse for wear. Once they both nodded, he nodded to Isabela, and they began their slow, arduous ascent up the hull.

As soon as Isabela was completely out of the water, the rope began to sag toward the ship. By the time Erik’s entire mass was out of the water, the rope was touching the hull, and he was able to climb horizontally up the dreadnought. Halfway up, he checked behind him, relieved to find the other half of the team doing the same.

Each step up the sheer face and each pull on the rope pumped more blood into his veins, banishing the cold from the Waking Sea. He was three-quarters up when Isabela climbed over the guardrail and crouched down to keep guard. Erik climbed over and dropped into a crouch before turning around to help Sera climb over, then did the same for Hawke. As soon as Marian was aboard, they each checked each other to make sure nothing was lost in the ocean. When they each confirmed nothing was lost and Isabela had secured the hook and rope, Erik withdrew his rifle from its case and checked to see it was still dry. He tapped the magazine well and the forward assist to make sure the bolt and feed were seated properly, then nodded to Isabela to lead the way. She signaled with her hands, and it was simple enough for Erik to make it out.

_You, with me. Hawke with Sera. You and Sera up front. We’ll take starboard, they’ll take port._

Erik nodded and moved low along the edge of the deck as they split up. The ship was large enough that its rocking wasn’t a horrible problem, but he would likely have to adjust his aim regardless.

The deck was, thankfully, largely open, so he and Sera cleared it quickly. There were no guards on patrol. _Likely a skeleton crew for the night_ , Erik thought. They moved inside the main structure on deck, switching to standard room-clearing procedures.

The interior was dimly lit, meaning Sera took lead, since elves saw better at night. The first room seemed only an entry room, barely small enough to fit two full-grown Qunari inside. The next room seemed to be the command room, which was also empty. They moved up the stairs, and before Erik could even cross the threshold, he heard the telltale _twang_ of Sera’s bow, followed by a _thump_ as a body hit the ground. Hawke threw a dagger next, and another body hit the ground. Erik crossed the threshold with his barrel raised, but there were no more enemies in the room, which appeared to be navigation. He heard indistinct shouting from the third floor, and a man came charging down the stairs. Erik put a round into his skull and he tumbled the rest of the way down the staircase.

Their surprise blown in the small tower, he moved swiftly up the staircase and cleared the third and final floor, which appeared to be a lookout.

“Clear,” he said quietly, descending back down to navigation.

“This can’t be all of them,” Hawke said.

“Below deck, I’d imagine,” Isabela said, “It’s night, so a skeleton crew is reasonable.” She turned and grabbed the wheel before speaking again.

“I’ll stay here and make sure the dreadnought doesn’t capsize,” she said, “Erik, take Hawke and Sera and go do what you do best.”

“Kill everybody on the ship, got it,” he smiled, heading back down the stairs with the remaining two women.

As soon as they stepped outside the trapdoor on the far side of the ship opened, and three Qunari climbed topside, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. The dead men’s relief. Sera, Hawke, and Erik darted into the shadows, and Erik sighted one into his rifle while Sera sighted another one. Erik looked at the elf and nodded once, twice, three times.

Then they shot their targets simultaneously, with Erik taking out the remaining one quickly. Two crumpled to the deck, while the third stumbled and fell overboard. They winced at the sound the two corpses made as they hit the deck and waited for a minute for retaliation. As they did, Erik counted four trapdoors in total. Chokepoints. If they roused the crew, they could clamp down on those and kill everyone aboard.

As long as they didn’t have a Saarebas or scuttle the dreadnought.

When it was clear they hadn’t woken the crew, they moved on swift and silent feet across the deck before descending below deck. They came upon the sleeping quarters, it seemed, with dozens of Qunari sleeping in netted hammocks in a room that smelled of sweat and smoke. Erik silently put bullets into every Qunari he passed while Hawke slit their throats and Sera stabbed through their spines with arrows.

By the time they had finished the gruesome work with the majority of the crew, Erik counted thirty-six crew members. Plus the three they killed in the tower, and the three on the deck made forty-two. There couldn’t be that many of the crew left. Perhaps just the captain.

They moved along the walls and came across a privy, and across from it, a single door. They stacked up near it and Hawke opened the door. Sera and Erik flowed in. They came to a simple, utilitarian room filled with notebooks, star charts, and maps. A single, elderly-looking Qunari slept in a bed, snoring softly. The captain, Erik presumed. He put two rounds in him and flowed back out, then they crossed the deck and down another trapdoor.

The deck they came upon was filled with cannons and gaatlok, which explained the smoke smell. Ammunition was in one corner in a large steel cage, while the cannons were roped to their individual holes. The engine room was near the stern of the dreadnought, and they entered it to be hit not by smoldering heat as Erik had expected, but a blue glow.

Lyrium. The ship ran on lyrium. Which made no sense. Dwarves were the only ones who could safely mine lyrium safely. Anybody else that handled the stuff raw was liable to meet an explosive end. Qunari weren’t an exception to the rule. Erik thought about the possibilities before them. Either the Qun had dwarves mining lyrium for them, or…

“The Carta is selling fucking lyrium to the Qunari,” Hawke spit before Erik could voice it. He turned to the Champion of Kirkwall to see a venomous rage on her face.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Sera whispered, “There’s one more deck.”

They moved down the final trapdoor, and when Erik looked around, his breath caught in his throat. The lowest deck was filled to the brim with magical artifacts. Elven scrolls and statues littered the walls, and more than one astrarium and several occulara were among the artifacts. But that wasn’t the biggest surprise.

At the bow of the ship, sitting alone, was a mirror. An inactive eluvian. The Qunari clearly hadn’t figured out how to work it. Erik slowly approached it.

“Is that an eluvian?” Hawke asked, “Merrill had one she was fixing back in Kirkwall.”

“I know.”

“The fuck is an eluvian?” Sera asked in apprehensive fear. Her eyes were darting throughout the room as though every artifact were about to come alive at once and attack her.

“Looks like this one is busted, too,” she thought aloud. But Erik wondered…

He pressed his palm to the cold surface of the magic mirror and closed his eyes. He felt nothing, but he tried it anyway, thinking of the passphrase he used back in Halamshiral.

_Annette Vagle._

The eluvian sprang to life, bathing the three of them in a neon blue glow. Hawke jumped slightly, and Sera nearly tripped over herself as she yelped in shock.

“This ship is a fucking Darvaarad,” Erik said as the four of them reconvened where Isabela was navigating the ship.

“You’ll have to explain,” Isabela absentmindedly responded, concentrating on navigating the ship.

“A Darvaarad is a magical quarantine site,” he explained, “The Qunari use it to hold magical items and study them. Once they discover what they want, they destroy the artifacts.”

“That doesn’t seem too bad,” Sera said, leaning on her bow. Erik spun on her.

“That fucking mirror down there means they’re studying eluvians. If they figure out how to open them, they can get anywhere in the world where there’s an eluvian. It’s a portal system.”

“So, the Qunari are planning an invasion?” Hawke asked. He thought about Dragon’s Breath and the shenanigans in the Crossroads and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “At least, I don’t know if they’ve started their plan. That’s not what bothers me right now. What bothers me is that they sent a Darvaarad to attack a red lyrium smuggling operation.”

Realization dawned on Hawke. “They were going to try and recover the shit and study it.”

Erik nodded grimly. “That’s my thought. But there’s nothing we can do without infiltrating Par Vollen, to be quite honest. At least we have the dreadnought.”

“How many crew did you count?” Isabela asked.

“Forty-two, plus the captain,” Erik informed her. Isabela nodded.

“The ship is efficient. You can skeleton man this thing with three, maybe two,” she commented, “So it doesn’t matter how many agents the Inquisition sends to take control of this thing.”

“Good,” Erik nodded, “Let’s go back to the captain’s quarters. I want to look through his shit.”

Looking through the captain’s quarters confirmed his suspicions. The Ben-Hassrath had sent the dreadnought to destroy the smuggler’s ship and recover the red lyrium for study. It also confirmed they were already studying the magic behind eluvians, meaning that Dragon’s Breath was at least an idea somewhere in Qunari territory.

It didn’t matter. It would be stopped. Bull had no reason to tell Gatt they had pirated the dreadnought now that he was Tal-Vashoth, and Gatt assumed the ship was destroyed. The Qunari wouldn’t risk sending a recovery team this far south, either, according to the captain’s journal, meaning they had pretty much got away with their heist. Erik pushed the thoughts of the future from his mind and focused on the here and now.

It was a good thing, too, because Sera approached from a nearby cabinet holding four bottles of maraas-lok.

“Look what I found,” she giggled as she shook the bottles of alcohol.

The four of them were utterly, completely drunk. They’d hoisted the Inquisition flag on a makeshift pole atop the dreadnought’s tower a couple of hours prior; Isabela had essentially fixed their direction, so they were stuck heading east for the time being. The sky had cleared up, revealing the moons and the stars, and they all sat on the deck staring into the twinkling lights.

“I didn’t think it would be that easy,” Isabela admitted.

“Neither did I,” Erik agreed, “I guess they never anticipated a boarding party.”

“No, they just didn’t expect _our_ boarding party,” Sera slurred, “Because we’re fucking _awesome_ , right?”

“I’ll toast to that,” Hawke laughed as she jutted her own bottle into the air. Erik looked at the three women and took a deep breath of sea air before he spoke.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, you know,” he said, “This ship was supposed to explode. It was never meant to be taken. Which meant that it could have gone wrong in a million different ways. But when I proposed this stupid, crackpot idea, you three didn’t hesitate. So I want to thank you for that. This could open so many possibilities for the future.”

“Of course,” Isabela smiled, “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again: I like big boats and I cannot lie.”

“To us,” Hawke drunkenly toasted, “Being fucking pirates and stealing from the fucking Qunari.”

“To us,” they all agreed, clinking their bottles together clumsily before taking pulls of the throat-numbing alcohol.

Erik looked up into the stars once more and thought about his life. He never could have expected to be yanked from Earth and put in a situation such as his. Sure, he worried about the future, but it was the future. He was making a real difference _now_. He’d found friendship, family, and love when he expected nothing. He had stolen eluvians and Qunari dreadnoughts, fought demons, killed dragons, and dropped mountains on would-be gods. He’d built his own life, on his own terms, despite the danger.

Erik smiled and said something he’d never thought he’d say again.

“I fucking love my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Black Sails at Midnight by Alestorm - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfiqvJacEX4
> 
> Before anyone asks, yes, the ship they use to get to the Dreadnought is a reference to Euron Greyjoy's ship in the ASOIAF books (not the show. Show!Euron sucks).
> 
> This was partly the chapter that inspired this entire fic. The friend Erik is based off said to me one day, "What if during Bull's personal quest you could go down to the shore, kill the Venatori, and steal the dreadnought?"  
> And I said, "That's what fanfiction is for, bud."


	37. ...And To Those I Love, Thanks For Sticking Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan begins the return journey. Erik lets go of Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three days in a row (for me. It's 6 AM here and I can't sleep so I just wrote until I couldn't anymore). I didn't plan on posting another one so soon, but Sulpicius hasn't put out the last two chapters of Darkness With Light so I had to fill the gap in my soul.
> 
> Qeue sad boi hours.
> 
> Warning: two mentions of suicide, one of death from leukemia.
> 
> Bioware/EA own Dragon Age disclaimer.

“I told you we could do it,” Oghren laughed at Aedan as they left the inn of the small, nameless town they had rested in.

“And I told you it was a bad idea. Do you really _want_ to sleep on the road all the way to the Frostbacks?” Aedan frowned, “Because that’s what’s going to happen if we go on another bender like that.”

Oghren waved him off. “Ah, that was a one-time thing. It was a celebration! We ain’t gonna hear the Calling, and we ain’t turning into ghouls. Besides, sleeping on the road? We did that for a year straight during the Blight. Or has old age addled your brain?”

“I’m twenty-nine, Oghren,” he reminded the dwarf with a raised eyebrow, “You’re twenty years older than me.”

“And twenty times more handsome,” the barbarian winked before gesturing to himself, “Why that saucy witch shacked up with you when we had the peak of performance in the party is beyond me”

Aedan snapped his head toward Oghren, cold fury painted on his features. There were certain lines people did not cross with him, and the dwarf knew it. Treating his wife as an object was well beyond those lines.

Oghren held up his hands. “Alright, alright, that was uncalled for,” he admitted, “I know how you feel about that kind of stuff when it comes to Morrigan.”

“Make sure you don’t forget about it in your old age,” Aedan said as evenly as he could before glancing at himself in a still puddle. He stopped and examined his features. He seemed younger than before. Like he actually looked his age, despite the scars that dotted his neck and face. Three even marks that ran from just below his jaw all the way down to his abdomen on his right side, Courtesy of Urthemiel. A scar that ran diagonally from left to right across the bridge of his nose from a darkspawn’s blade. The one across his temple from one of the Mother’s tentacles; his hair no longer grew where that mark lay. There were dozens more under his clothing, so many he’d lost count years prior. He should probably be dead. No, he reminded himself, he _absolutely_ should be dead. His remains should be lying broken in a tomb at Weisshaupt next to Neriah & Corin, Reyalde, and Garahel. He cheated his fate. Instead, he became known as the greatest Warden to ever live. The only person to kill an Old God and live.

No one but Morrigan knew the truth. Not even Oghren, Alistair, Nathaniel, Zevran, or Sten – now the Arishok – or Wynne, bless her heart. He was positive Flemeth knew, wherever she was, but she didn’t count. It was her ritual, to begin with.

Velanna and Sigrun approached with two horses and two ponies, their errands complete. Sigrun tossed Aedan a quiver of arrows and he slung it over his back.

“Are we taking the same way back?” Velanna asked. Aedan nodded.

“What, we aren’t going to Weisshaupt?” Sigrun asked, slightly shocked.

“I will never go back to that bloody place,” Aedan spat, “Do you know how long they held me and Alistair there, questioning us? I had to bring the Archdemon’s head to convince them I’d killed the fucker, and it _still_ took testimony from Teagan to prove I was the one that dealt the final blow.”

“So what’s the plan, then? With the cure?” Velanna asked. Aedan drummed his fingers along Vigilance.

“Well, the first thing we need to do is cure Nathaniel and Alistair,” he hummed, “Then we’ll give a copy to Clarel and a copy to Weisshaupt.”

“Why give it to Warden-Commander Clarel?” Oghren asked, “Wouldn’t it be easier to just send one copy to Weisshaupt?”

Aedan sighed, thinking of the griffon eggs he’d heard about. “You know how we are. Secretive, even to our own brothers and sisters. There’s a chance they wouldn’t send it to the branches.”

“So to Clarel, then,” Sigrun agreed, “And then to the rest of the branches?” Aedan nodded as they mounted and rode at a trot out of town.

“Is Clarel even the Warden-Commander in Orlais anymore?” Velanna asked, “Gordon should have taken over by now.”

“Blackwall?” he asked, “Nah. He was transferred to Nevarra last I heard.”

“Well, at any rate, Clarel’s coming up on her Calling in at least a year or two,” Oghren clicked his tongue, “She’s been a Warden for, what, twenty-eight years?”

“Twenty-nine,” Aedan corrected, “She went through the Joining when I was born. She was already Constable when I became Commander in Ferelden.”

“How did _that_ go over? You’d been a Warden for just over a year, and she’d been one for nineteen?”

He shrugged. “Not a whole lot of people questioned it, to be honest. I killed Urthemiel and lived. Plus, you remember how I was back then. I was angry. I didn’t take a whole lot of shit.”

“You still don’t,” Velanna deadpanned.

They sat around a campfire, eating what they’d killed earlier that day while their mounts grazed in the tall grass surrounding the clearing. It reminded him of the Blight; the quiet moments at camp when they all sat around, telling stories and getting much-needed rest on the cold Fereldan ground. Aedan felt like he’d spent more time sleeping outside than in a bed for most his life, even if that was untrue.

“I have to ask,” Sigrun spoke up, “You going to try for another kid when you get back? I mean, The Architect said the fertility issue should be gone once the cure is used.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’ll be up to Morrigan. If she wants another one, the option’s on the table now.”

“One’s enough for me,” Oghren sighed, “And I only see the little turd for half the year.”

“What about you?” Aedan asked Velanna, “Did you and Nathaniel talk about it at all? The possibility of children once you’re both cured?”

The elf blushed. ‘We haven’t. Besides, there are still issues in the way.”

“Such as?”

“We’re still Grey Wardens,” she reminded him, “Immune to the Taint, unnatural strength and endurance? Just because we don’t have to worry about the Calling and becoming ghouls and I’m fertile again doesn’t mean raising a child would be easy when we’re always stacking bodies in the Deep Roads.”

“Well, we don’t go out all _that_ often,” Sigrun said between bites of venison, “We mostly hunt Broodmothers, so unless we find one we don’t go down there all that often.”

“Okay, maybe the Warden thing is an excuse,” Velanna admitted as she ran her fingers through her blonde hair.

“So what’s the real reason, then?” Aedan pressed.

“Any children I have will be human!” she snapped, “I may love Nathaniel, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to let my culture and bloodline die because of it. I want a child, but I don’t know if I would be able to look at any baby I had with Nathaniel the same.”

“You would,” Aedan mumbled as he stared into the campfire.

Velanna turned her gaze onto him. “Oh, and I suppose _you_ would know anything about it?”

“I do,” he growled, “More than you know, I do. I knew Kieran wouldn’t be normal. I _knew_. But I don’t care. I would let Thedas burn to protect that boy.”

“What do you mean, you knew he wouldn’t be normal?” Sigrun asked. Aedan glanced around the group and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to tell you three exactly _how_ I survived the Archdemon.”

* * *

“The _Dickless_ ,” Sera suggested sarcastically.

“No,” Isabela refused, “We aren’t describing the ship as a eunuch.”

“What about the _Sacred Ashes_?” Hawke suggested, “You know, to remind everyone how this shit all started.”

“It could be considered sacrilege,” Erik reminded her as he watched the whales follow the dreadnought. He had no idea that orcas existed in Thedas. He’d always liked orcas. He wasn’t sure why, but he liked them. It made him feel less lost whenever he saw an animal he would recognize back home; it hurt at first, like when he saw dolphins on their sea voyage to Val Royeaux. But it just reminded him now that he wasn’t completely out of place, and that there likely was a master hand behind all of it, both his old world and his new one.

“Oh, and I don’t suppose you have something better, _Champion_?” Hawke jabbed as she sauntered to his side.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad name, _Champion,_ I’m just saying it might piss a couple of people off,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. If I had to name this thing, I would call it… maybe _Spirit of Fire_ or _Forward Unto Dawn_?”

“I like _Forward Unto Dawn_ ,” Isabela called from the wheel, “And as acting captain of this metal monstrosity, I say that’s what we’re going with.”

“Well good, because I completely ripped it off from another story in my world,” Erik laughed. Hawke raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? What was it called?”

“ _Halo_ ,” he sighed, reminiscing about his time playing the games with his friends, “It’s about… ah, fuck, you wouldn’t understand. I’d have to explain space to you three and I don’t even know if the structure of the universe is the same here.”

“What do you mean?” Marian asked, seemingly genuinely intrigued. Erik led her to the command room on the first floor of the tower and grabbed a sheaf of paper and a pen. He smiled, remembering his brief two-year stint in college and his studies in astrophysics.

“Okay, so this is what my world looks like. Well, my world is actually here,” he pointed to Earth, “The third planet in what we call the Solar System. The sun is in the center and we orbit around it, once a year.”

“There are eight other worlds in your world?” Hawke asked, confused. Erik nodded.

“Yeah, but they can’t support life. They have the wrong kind of air, or not enough air, or they’re too hot or too cold. Some of them don’t even have surfaces. They’re just balls of gas held together by gravity.”

“You’ll have to explain that, too.”

“Gravity is the force that makes things stay and fall to the ground,” he explained, “It’s a constant. It’s what keeps the planets from flying away from the sun in my universe, and it probably works in a similar way here, too. Matter of fact, most of the physical laws are probably the same here.”

“I’ll ask about that in a second. What’s beyond the edges of this ‘solar system’?” Hawke asked.

“Other suns, just like mine. They’re the stars. Most of them have other planets orbiting them, and some of those planets may even have other life forms.”

“Has anyone ever gone to those other planets?” Isabela asked to his right, giving her wife a look that Erik couldn’t read. He laughed, realizing how much knowledge Thedas lacked.

“No, the other stars are unfathomably far away. If you were to walk nonstop to the next closest star – which you can’t because there’s no ground between the two – but if you could do it, it would take about a billion years. So the furthest we ever got was the moon.”

Hawke’s eyes widened. “I’m going to ignore the billion years part and focus on the fact that your world has sent people to one of your moons.”

“We only have one. But yes, we’ve sent people there. Several times. There was talk about sending people to Mars,” he pointed to the red planet, “Here, but it would be a tremendous undertaking for so many reasons that we could be here all day if I explained them all.”

“Still, you’ve had people walk on the moon,” Isabela said in shock, “Okay, so you’ve got other suns past your own. What about past those?”

“We don’t know. It goes on forever, for all we know,” he shrugged, “Stars are clumped together in the hundreds of billions in groups known as galaxies, and there are maybe two trillion galaxies in our universe that we can see.”

“That… I can’t picture that,” Hawke admitted. Erik smiled at her.

“No one can. But that’s not how I think Thedas is structured.”

“How is it structured, then?”

He drew a sphere, surrounded by two moons and a firmament from classical antiquity.

“This is how I think this world is structured.”

“Why would you think that if you’ve already seen what another world is built like?” Isabela asked.

“The Fade,” he said simply, “If this world is just part of a larger whole, does that mean the Fade is an isolated phenomenon? Or is it everywhere else in the universe, too? If it’s everywhere else in the universe, does the Veil extend past the world? It would make more sense for Thedas to be the center of the universe, and for it to have a much more metaphysical structure.”

“This is what you were talking about when you meant different laws that governed the worlds,” Hawke realized. Erik nodded.

“The Fade and magic are what I would guess is a fifth fundamental force,” he continued, “There are four that we know of on Earth: the strong and weak nuclear force, electromagnetism, and gravity. The strong nuclear force governs atoms. They’re what make everything up. So impossibly small you can’t see them, and they make up everything in the world.”

“They’re what make up everything in _your_ world,” Isabela corrected before Erik shook his head.

“No, they make up Thedas too. If they didn’t, I would have ceased to exist the instant I got here. Anyways, the weak nuclear force governs the decay of atoms, because everything gets old after a while. Electromagnetism governs light, magnets, and anything with a charge, like lightning. I already explained gravity.”

“What about this ‘fifth force’?” Hawke asked.

Erik sighed. “As I said, if I had to guess, the fifth force here would be magic, which is governed by the Fade. I know the other four exist because I wouldn’t be able to even exist otherwise, but I probably can’t use magic because I wasn’t born here and my body isn’t accustomed to having a fifth governing force. But it’s there. We don’t have magic on Earth, like I’ve explained when you both met me.”

He stopped his physics lecture and looked at Isabela and Marian suspiciously.

“Why are you asking me this?” he questioned.

“Because you haven’t been all here,” Hawke sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re here, sure,” she gestured to him, “But somewhere, deep down, there’s a part of you that wonders if you’re ever going home. _Home_ home, back to Earth. And you’ve said it yourself: the circumstances of your arrival were probably so random that you aren’t ever going back. But even still, there’s a part of you that wonders if you _could_ go home. I figured prying a bit of information out of you and having it apply to Thedas would help you ground yourself here.”

Erik didn’t respond as he thought about Hawke’s reasoning, but still going nowhere with it.

“Did you know I tried to go back to Ferelden? Back to Lothering?” she asked, “It was after the Deep Roads expedition, back in 9:33 Dragon. They rebuilt the town after the Darkspawn destroyed it, and I went there. But it wasn’t the same. The people were mostly the same. The land was the same. But _I_ wasn’t the same. I couldn’t go back to that old life. I used some of the money I had to buy a house, briefly. I lived there for a month and a half. I snapped. I couldn’t do it. I always thought about Kirkwall, and I always thought ‘what if’? I thought about what would happen if I stayed in Ferelden.

“I didn’t have many options. I would either have to serve in Alistair’s army or take up farming. I wasn’t a noble in Ferelden, only in Kirkwall. So that meant either serving someone else or settling down with someone I probably hated and popping out a few kids because it was expected of me. And I didn’t want to do that. Kirkwall allowed me to live the life I chose, instead of simply following a path.”

Erik leaned against the table and stared off into the deck, thinking about where Marian was going with her lecture.

“I know it may not seem the same, but it really is,” she continued, “If you have an opportunity to go back to Earth, and you take it, you’ll be stuck in a job where you either serve until you die, retire, or leave and go do something else where you’re constricted by your past. And you’d go to sleep every night and think about ‘what if’? What if you’d stayed here? What if you’d stayed in Thedas, where you built a life you wanted out of what was before you? You’ve done it, you know. You fell in love with a woman that most people think of as a force of nature. Dorian told me you said you want to marry her. She won’t be on Earth. You have opportunity here. You made friends, family. You helped build the bloody Inquisition. You’re a force of nature here as much as Leliana is or I am or Evelyn is, and you have people who love you here. Let go of Earth. Accept that this is your home now. Learn to love Thedas, throw away your old life, and never look back.’

A single tear dripped out of his eye. He knew she was right. She was more right than he wanted to admit to himself. He should have given up by now, but he’d been lying to himself and to his lover. He would be torn if there was an opportunity to return to Earth. But Marian was absolutely right: if he went back, he would always ask himself ‘what if’ and he knew that at some point, he would grow to regret his decision.

So Erik took a shaky breath. “How do I start?”

“Get rid of the thing that connects you most to Earth,” she said, “That’s what I did when I went back to Kirkwall. I know it isn’t your rifle. That’s a tool, not something that you cherish. I know you didn’t bring much with you, but find out whatever it is that reminds you most of Earth and say goodbye to it.”

“It’s my phone,” he said without hesitation, “It has every reminder of Earth on it.”

She spread her hands. “Then share it with us, just once. Show everyone your world, laugh about it, and enjoy it. Take a day when we get back to show everyone everything you loved about Earth, and use that time to say goodbye. Then do whatever you need to do to get rid of it, and accept that you are no longer from Earth, you’re from Thedas.”

Erik took a shaky breath and internalized what Marian had said. It took a long while before he finally nodded his acceptance, unable to look either woman in the eye. When he finally did, Hawke gave a small smile and squeezed his shoulder.

“We may be assholes, but both of us know what it’s like to lose,” Isabela said, “We’re here for you.”

“I hate to ruin the weirdo’s therapy,” Sera called from navigation, “But I see Ostwick.”

They docked and handed off the ship to the Inquisition team that met them in the harbor; the ship turned out to be too large to dock and they didn’t want to cause a fuss by docking a formerly Qunari ship in the port. They stood on the walls of the city and watched the Inquisition paint the name of the ship on its hull in the distance.

“So,” Sera said with her usual bravado, “Who’s payin’ for the trip back to Skyhold?”

Erik drew himself out of his melancholy to think for a moment. He closed his eyes and felt for his connection to the eluvians. He opened his eyes and smiled at them.

“We won’t have to,” he said, “But you probably won’t be a fan of the alternative, Sera.”

The Eluvian was in an abandoned home in the Alienage, oddly enough. Isabela had to pick the lock to get them in, and they descended into the basement of the ramshackle building. He spotted the eluvian and went through the standard activation procedure he had figured out, and the face of the mirror sprung to life.

“Come on,” he said, approaching the portal, “Morrigan has one of these in Skyhold. We can navigate the Crossroads to get back.”

"You're right," Sera sighed, "I'm not a fan of this. Fuck you."

The three women hesitantly followed him, and then they were met with the hazy blue-grey of the elven pocket dimension.

“Why is it so colorful?” Sera asked in almost fearful awe. Isabela eyed her strangely.

“Colorful? It’s all muted. It’s giving me a headache,” she groaned.

“The Crossroads are an elven creation,” Erik explained as he closed the eluvian, “Elven physiology reacts differently to being here.”

“How do we get to Skyhold?” Hawke asked, “There’s a lot of these mirrors.”

Erik waited for the echo of her voice to die before listening closely. He could hear two feminine voices in the distance to his left.

“We’re in luck,” Erik said, “Morrigan is showing Evelyn the Crossroads.”

* * *

"It's time to plan our next attack," she said, gazing over the War Table, "What's the state of the Inquisition?"

"Our alliance with Orlais holds,” Josephine informed Evelyn, “They'll send aid on request."

Cullen crossed his arms. "And hopefully, after we march on Adamant, we’ll be able to deny Corypheus his army of pet demons. With Orlais' support, our numbers will soon match his. Corypheus’s followers must be beginning to worry."

"My agents agree," Leliana nodded, "Our victory at the Winter Palace has shaken his disciples."

"Perhaps soon they'll rethink following the darkspawn Magister from the dawn of time," Evelyn leaned against the table, "Where is Corypheus now?"

"After you dealt with the duchess, he himself went underground,” Leliana explained, “We don't know where he is at the moment. His army is not at Adamant, nor is he. Assuming we succeed at Adamant, we’ll have him on the defensive."

“Speaking of Adamant, are we prepared to march?” she asked Cullen, subtly watching his movements for a sign of a bad day of withdrawals. He showed nothing.

"Almost. Adamant Fortress has stood against the darkspawn since the time of the Second Blight. Fortunately, for us, that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment," Cullen said with a genuine smile, "A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls. And thanks to our lady ambassador..."

"Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers,” Josephine said proudly, “They've already delivered the trebuchets."

"That is the good news,” Leliana murmured.

"None of that accounts for the Wardens summoning a giant demon army," Evelyn sighed.

"That is the bad.”

Cullen nodded his agreement. "The Inquisition forces can breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons..."

Leliana slid Cullen a pile of scrolls she had brought in at the beginning of the meeting. "I found records of Adamant's construction. There are choke points we can use to limit the field of battle."

"That's good,” the Commander said with enthusiasm as he unrolled one of the scrolls and briefly examined it, "We may not be able to defeat them outright, but if we cut off reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel."

Evelyn took a shaky breath, thinking of her brother. "Taking this fortress is going to get a lot of good soldiers killed."

"Our soldiers know the risks, Inquisitor,” Josephine reminded her in a soothing tone, “And they know what they're fighting for."

"It'll be hard-fought, no way around it,” Cullen grunted, “But we'll get that gate open."

“It's also possible that some Wardens may be sympathetic to our cause," the Ambassador suggested.

Leliana, however, didn’t seem to entirely agree. "The warriors may be willing to listen to reason, though I doubt that they will turn against Clarel directly. The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They will fight to the death."

"That, unfortunately, can’t be helped. We’re building the siege engines and readying our forces, Inquisitor,” Cullen informed her, “I'll let you know when we are ready to march on Adamant."

“Good. Then we don’t need to worry about Adamant until we actually march,” Evelyn said, bringing her eyes up from the map of Thedas, “Which means we can plan ahead. I want to know what Corypheus is doing.”

“My agents believe he is searching for something,” Leliana offered, "The question is what."

"His people have been ransacking elven ruins since Haven. We believe he seeks more." Josephine added.

"What he hopes to find, however," Leliana sighed, "Continues to elude us."

"Which should surprise no one," a smoky voice informed them. Morrigan strode into the War Room, dressed in garb that would turn more than a few heads and likely give more than a few Chantry Mothers heart attacks.

"Fortunately, I can assist," she offered.

"You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention, Lady Morrigan," Evelyn smiled as the witch approached the War Table.

"What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten ruins is as ancient as it is dangerous," she explained, being almost as cryptic as Erik.

"Which is?"

"'Tis best..." Morrigan turned away from the War Table and beckoned for Evelyn to follow, "If I show you."

She led Evelyn to a previously unused room in the gardens, where a tall, bronzed mirror stood silently at one end.

"This is an eluvian,” Morrigan explained, "An elven artifact, from a time long before their empire was lost to human greed. I restored this one at great cost, but there are others. Briala had found their lesser cousins before your brother took control of them. One like mine, however, is what Corypheus seeks."

"It's..." Evelyn gaped at the massive object. This was an eluvian? _This_ was what Erik was after at the Winter Palace? The mirror nearly touched the ceiling and was wide enough to clear two draft horses easily. There were intricate carvings along the edges that seemed to twist upon themselves as Evelyn looked at them, making her head hurt slightly.

"It’s beautiful, in its way," she finally said.

Morrigan nodded. "I found legends of another, untouched, somewhere within an elven ruin in southern Orlais. I could not locate it, and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize. If Corypheus is looking for elven artifacts, he is certainly searching for it, and if he is searching for it, he could succeed where I failed. The eluvian would be his."

"What does it do?" She knew Erik wanted them, and that they connected to other eluvians, but she had no idea how they worked.

Morrigan gestured at the mirror, and Evelyn felt a terrible amount of raw power flow from her and into the mirror. The eluvian began to glow a bright blue, its previously static face now rippling as though it were made of water.

"A more appropriate question would be 'where does it lead?'" Morrigan stepped through the mirror and vanished.

Evelyn balked for a moment at the disappearing act and then followed. She instantly found herself in a bleakly grey space. Mist covered both herself and Morrigan from the waist down, washing the space out further. Pieces of metal twisted into spherical trees dotted the dead landscape, and eluvians were everywhere, mostly broken. Morrigan spoke, and her voice echoed in the eerily still air.

"If this place once had a name, it has long been lost. I call it the Crossroads, a place where all eluvians join,” she explained, "Wherever they might be."

"This place is extraordinary,” Evelyn said breathlessly, “How could this even exist?"

Morrigan shrugged. "Who can say? Formed from the fabric of time and space, perhaps. The ancient elves left no roads, only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This is how they traveled between them. As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark: broken, corrupted, or unusable. As for the rest,” she pointed to one, way in the distance, “A few can be opened from this side. But only a few."

"How did you find out about this place?"

"My travels have led me to many strange destinations, Inquisitor. Once they led me here. It offered sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" she asked, shamelessly mining for information on the strange place Evelyn found herself in.

"Not all the mirrors lead back to our world. The ancients were nothing if not..." Morrigan thought for a moment, "Resourceful."

Evelyn blinked in shock, quickly forming another question. "If they don't lead back to our world, then… could one lead to Erik’s world?"

Morrigan shook her head. "That would be unlikely. I had heard there were no elves from his world, so there is likely not a connection to his ‘Earth’ within the Crossroads. No, they lead to places between, like this one. I can describe it no better,” she sighed morosely and her features drooped, “For a time, I had a respite with the man I love. For a time, I had a safe place to raise my son. But only for a time. One cannot remain in between forever."

Evelyn realized she had come upon a sensitive subject for the woman and steered the conversation away. "Corypheus wants to come… here?"

"This," Morrigan gestured to the grey landscape, "Is not the Fade, but it is very close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers..."

"And enter the Fade in the flesh. Like Corypheus wanted to do with the Anchor," Evelyn realized.

"He has learned eluvians such as mine exist. He will likely marshal his forces to find one,” Morrigan turned to lead Evelyn back through the eluvian, “Should you succeed at Adamant, you will make Corypheus very desperate, Inquisitor. When that happens we must work together to stop him.”

“Evelyn!” he heard a voice call. She froze and turned around. Four figures were striding through the mist toward them. Three women and a man. One of the women was an elf. She quickly realized it was Erik’s team.

“Erik? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Ostwick,” she sputtered in shock.

“We were,” Hawke provided, “There was an eluvian in the city.”

“And as it turns out, one of those eluvians is mine,” Erik added, “So… I invented fast travel. But thank fuck you two were here, or else we would have been wandering around until we found another one of mine in this place.”

“‘Twas rather stupid of you to bluster into the Crossroads without knowing how to navigate them,” Morrigan said with a frown, “Owning the lesser eluvians does not mean one knows how to use them.”

“Once you get to know me, Morrigan, you’ll learn that I don’t always make the best decisions,” he smiled, “I mean, we just stole a Qunari warship. You don’t get much dumber than that.”

Morrigan let out an exasperated sigh. “You and my husband would get along swimmingly, then.” She turned and walked through the Eluvian, and Evelyn, Erik, Hawke, Isabela, and Sera followed quickly after her.

“I must make sure Kieran hasn’t found himself trouble,” Morrigan said as she sealed the mirror, “Think on what I said, Inquisitor.”

Evelyn nodded, and the witch left the room. Evelyn turned and studied her brother briefly.

“So,” she began, “How was stealing a dreadnought?”

“Super easy,” Erik shrugged, “We didn’t encounter a shred of resistance. But I got to fulfill a childhood dream and become a pirate briefly.”

“As long as it doesn’t come back to haunt us,” Evelyn warned. Erik didn’t respond, but bit his lip and looked at the ground sheepishly.

“Is there something on your mind?” she asked. He looked at her with apprehension in his eyes.

“Hawke, Isabela, and I had a talk,” he said, “I’d like to do something if you don’t mind.”

“You’re beating around the bush,” Hawke sighed, “Tell her what we spoke about.”

“I need to let Earth go,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice, “And to do that, I feel like need to get rid of my phone. It’s the biggest connection I have to my world. But I’d like to say goodbye to it, too. Do we have anything planned tomorrow?”

“No,” Evelyn shook her head, suddenly feeling sad for Erik’s predicament, “Why, will it be an all-day thing?”

He nodded. Evelyn thought for a moment, then looked back at her brother and nodded.

“Do you want others there?”

“I’d like to share it with everyone. I don’t know if I’d be able to do it alone,” he admitted.

“I’ll let everyone know,” she agreed, “Get whatever you need, and we’ll have a day tomorrow where you can say goodbye.”

* * *

Erik sat in Evelyn’s chambers in the early hours of the morning, fiddling with the black mirror between his hands. He’d made sure it had a full charge, and the solar charger was ready should it need extra juice. Evelyn said she knew a standard illusion spell that would allow her to project his screen onto the wall, so he didn’t have to worry about over a dozen people trying to stare at a six-inch screen. Erik had asked Dagna if she wanted to examine the device afterward, but she declined his offer. ‘It’s built on too many discoveries and too many inventions,’ she’d said, ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

One by one, the members of the Inner Circle filtered into the rather large room. First came Leliana, who sat silently at his side while he mulled over his thoughts, and Josephine, who respected the silence and merely waited. Isabela, Varric, and Hawke came after, followed by Evelyn and Cullen. Dorian and Sera and Blackwall were next, followed by Cassandra, and then Cole suddenly materialized. Solas was last. Vivienne declined to come because she was Vivienne, and Erik was rather grateful she didn’t bring her toxicity; Iron Bull was still reeling from the fact that he’d become Tal-Vashoth, so Erik understood his absence. Surprisingly, Morrigan arrived with Kieran, who she claimed was curious about what Erik had to show, though Erik suspected she was using it as an excuse to satiate her own interest. When everyone who had accepted the invitation had arrived, he cleared his throat nervously.

“Thank you all for coming,” he stammered, “I don’t think I was ever able to properly introduce myself to all of you. My name is Erik Baldr Andersen. I was born in a city known as Long Beach on March 3rd, 1991, to Annette and Mikael Andersen. I was raised in a loving household as an only child. When I was seventeen, my mother died of a disease known as leukemia, and when I was eighteen, my father took his own life over the grief of the loss. I joined my country’s military at the age of twenty, and I was selected for Special Forces. I trained for two years and served for six in 3rd Special Forces Group on ODA 3325. I served on four combat deployments in that time. One to a country called Afghanistan, twice to the continent of Africa, and once to the countries of Iraq and Syria. My best friend was killed in action on January 18th, 2016, and after that my life took a downward spiral. I started drinking, I became abrasive to those around me, and my actions became brash and overly aggressive. I’m pretty sure a psychologist would diagnose me with PTSD, and at my worst, I would have been diagnosed with depression.

“Then, on August 22nd, 2019, I went to a shooting range. Cassandra, Leliana, I told you two I was going there to meet with my friends. I lied. I went to kill myself. I have no idea if I succeeded, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up chained to the floor next to the woman that I would eventually come to regard as my sister.”

He gave a small smile to Evelyn; she was watching him with a slight amount of shock.

“That was the best thing that could have happened to me,” he continued, “Since my arrival in Thedas, I’ve made friends, family, and a life for myself that I chose on my own. I’ve seen and done things I would have never imagined, and I can say that my life has taken a turn for the better since I’ve come here, despite the situation this world finds itself in.

“But in the back of my mind, there’s still the thought that I might return to Earth someday. I know it will never happen, but it’s there nonetheless. I want to kill it. My life was a living hell for three years nonstop, and I want to leave behind anything that tied me to that life and never look back. But I also want to say goodbye to it.”

He placed his phone on Evelyn’s coffee table in silence, and she cast her spell. In an instant, the screen was mirrored on the smooth stones of the wall.

“Leliana, I told you before the Winter Palace that I would show you something called _The Lord of the Rings_. I would like to show all of you that today, as a final farewell to my old life. This, in my opinion, is the greatest story my world has ever told, and I wanted to watch it one last time.”

“Watch it?” Cullen asked, “How are we going to watch a story?”

“My wor –” Erik stopped himself, “ _Earth_ has a far more advanced way of telling stories than Thedas does. We can capture moments and play them back. Imagine this like a stage play, but on a much larger scale.”

He caught a glimpse of Cole beneath his floppy hat, giving Erik a smile. Erik cocked his head at the spirit.

“Do you want to add something, Cole?” he asked.

“I don’t need to,” the spirit boy shook his head, “You’re helping yourself.”

Erik gave him a small smile and queued up the first film.

“Fair warning, this will take all day,” he smiled, settling into the couch next to Leliana, wrapping his arm around the woman he loved, “I hope you brought snacks.”

“I may have spoken too soon,” Cole murmured before vanishing. Erik allowed himself a chuckle as the opening lines of the film began.

“ _The world is changed: I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air…_ ”

* * *

“ _My dear Sam. You cannot always be torn in two. You have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be and to do. Your part in the story will go on._ ”

“ _Well, I’m back._ ”

Evelyn sat in stunned silence for a few minutes after the ‘movie’ ended. It had grown dark outside, but no one in the room seemed to care at all. Everyone sat in stunned silence, save for Josephine and Cassandra, who were both quietly sniffling. Erik held a blank expression on his face as he stared at the now darkened wall.

“Well, now I feel like a hack,” Varric grumbled, ruining the moment.

“You’re not a hack, Varric,” Erik said with a smile, “The man that wrote that was just a legend.”

“You’re not making me feel any better about this,” he sighed.

“I… for once, I am at a loss for words,” Morrigan stammered out. There was silence once more, and Erik merely stood and grabbed his phone, speaker, and the object he called a ‘charger’.

“Alright,” he took a shaky breath as he walked to the balcony overlooking the Frostbacks, “I guess it’s time to let go, then.”

The rest of the Inner Circle followed him as he gazed into the mountains. One at a time, he flung each item into the rocks far below until he was empty-handed, staring into the winter moonlight.

Erik stood silently for a very long time. Long enough for everyone to realize he needed time. One by one, each individual excused themselves without a word. Cullen gave her a look that read _stay with him_ before he himself left, and then Erik was alone with Leliana and Evelyn.

Finally, after a heavy, oppressive moment where the only sound was the wind blowing gently across the peaks of the Frostbacks, a single sob escaped her brother’s lips. Then another. Then he collapsed on the balcony, openly weeping. Leliana was by his side quickly, with Evelyn soon following as Erik broke.

They held him there in the cold until he exhausted the last of his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for ...And To Those I Love, Thanks For Sticking Around by $uicideboy$ - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dq_SDNtWHDY
> 
> I didn't plan on making it as heavy as I did or to have as much dialogue as it had, but it got away from me. I didn't want to edit it.
> 
> I'll fucking fight you if you think Lord of the Rings isn't the greatest story of our time. I'll fight you.
> 
> As another, rather important note: ODA 3325 is a real team in 3rd Group. I have never served on 3325. If there are any readers that are SF and are ON 3325 or know someone on 3325, sorry for calling the team out.


	38. Omerta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull accepts his fate. Cassandra confronts the Lord Seeker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bioware/EA owns Dragon Age, this is a transformative work. Standard disclaimer.
> 
> Stay tuned. Yet another chapter on its way out tonight.

By the time Leliana woke the next morning Erik was already up and on the balcony, a cup of what Thedas called coffee in hand. He leaned on the balustrade and gazed down into the courtyard as Herah’s company trained in the upper courtyard. They’d been at it since before Erik had awoken just before dawn. In and out they flowed, in teams of four and squads of eight, into the foundry that housed Cassandra and then down into the dungeons, training for any type of room and building they may come across. He had to smile at that. He’d never been the best at CQB. Sure, he’d been very, very good, but he wasn’t CAG. He knew more than enough to be thrown into a Ranger platoon, and he would probably have outclassed most of those men, but the more senior guys would’ve been more skilled than he at room clearing. Of course, it was to be expected. It was all Rangers did. He would do CQB in regards to a larger objective, while they would hit a target hard, clear it, and leave. He was rather glad Herah didn’t ask him about unconventional and guerrilla warfare. Erik wasn’t sure the powers that be would like having an armed and dangerous populace when a famine hit. Erik shook the thought from his mind and returned his thoughts to the issue of the night prior.

He’d let Earth go. And not like before. He had let it go completely. Not given up on it; giving up wasn’t in his nature. No, he rather accepted that Thedas was his home now. And while he would never be a native of Thedas, he would strive to make his mark here. He’d come to terms with the fact that he’d always be shaped by his experiences from that time, but he was never going back. Not even if he had the opportunity. He was Thedosian now, and that meant staying and making Thedas a better place like he’d tried to do with Earth. And it also meant thinking about his own future outside killing people in the way of his goals. He knew he wanted to start a family at some point. He wasn’t sure if Leliana did; they hadn’t spoken about it and they’d only known each other for seven or eight months and had been together for five of those. That was quite a short amount of time, at least how he viewed it. Erik still hadn’t been told how Thedosian relationships typically progressed, so he’d made it up as he went along. Still, seven months wasn’t…

It came to him that his math was wrong and that he’d have been on Thedas for a year the following month. He would be twenty-nine by the Thedosian calendar in fewer than thirty days. He stopped his train of thought and stayed on that little bit for a while, at least until he felt thin fingers run their way up his back from beneath his shirt.

“You were up early,” the Orlesian woman’s lilted accent drifted from his left. He turned toward her and gave a small smile.

“No, you’re just up late,” he corrected, “I got up around the time you normally do.”

Leliana shrugged. “It was a long day, yesterday. Not that it was bad, but we were in that room for the entire day.”

Erik sighed and shrugged. He supposed it was a long day. A twelve-hour marathon of Lord of the Rings followed by having to comfort one’s lover through a mental breakdown would be a long day for anyone, even Leliana. She leaned forward to study his face when he didn’t respond.

“Something’s on your mind,” she concluded, “Is it last night?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I’ve come to terms with that… I’m going to be twenty-nine next month.” She let out a small laugh and ran a hand down her face.

“Of all the things to be brooding about,” she murmured to himself. Erik blinked, deciding he should probably take offense to that.

“I’m not brooding,” he defended.

“Yes, you are. You’re brooding.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Are you teasing me?” he asked with a smile, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Maybe a bit,” she smiled, tapping his nose with her finger. He placed a quick kiss on her lips before she pushed away from him.

“And since you seem to be panicking about your youth slipping through your fingers, don’t worry,” she said as she left for work, “You’re with a woman that’s a bit more than six years older than you. Well beyond her youth.”

“That’s not ‘well beyond’ your youth,” he called after her as he made a mental note that Leliana was thirty-six.

“It feels like it is,” she returned, determined to get the last word in. He shook his head with a smile and decided to wander and harass people aimlessly.

He found Bull smacking a training dummy lackadaisically. He was clearly just filling time. Erik sighed, realizing exactly what was going on. He decided to get it over with.

“Hey, Bull,” he greeted, leaning on the nearby wall, watching the man simply go through swinging motions with no drive.

“Erik,” he greeted, resting his hand on his axe, “Glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk. Come on, walk with me.”

Erik followed Bull across the courtyard and up the stairs near the Herald’s Rest until they came to the battlement between Cullen’s office and the tavern. The two veterans gazed silently out into the valley below and watched the specks of people mill about in New Haven.

“Pretty incredible, what the Inquisition’s built,” Bull said after several minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” Erik agreed, “It is. I’ve never been part of something like this before.”

“I don’t think anyone has,” the kossith grunted, “Well, maybe Red. But she doesn’t count.”

The door to the Herald’s rest opened, revealing a man in scout’s garb. A second man in the same outfit climbed the same stairs that Erik and Bull had.

“You want some help?” he murmured to the larger man.

"Na, I got it," Bull reassured, sounding more annoyed at the two men than worried. The first man charged Bull and he tossed the impostor off the wall.

" _Ebost Isalla, Tal-Vashoth!_ " the second assassin screamed, driving his dagger toward Bull’s back. The former spy pivoted as he was called out, and the dagger embedded itself in the back of his shoulder. Iron Bull let out a grunt and threw him over the battlement with his co-conspirator.

"Yeah, yeah, my soul's dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground, though, so..." Bull sighed. He looked at the dagger and then towards Erik, “Could you help me out here?”

Erik grabbed the hilt and yanked the weapon out of his friend’s shoulder. Bull growled as he looked at the wound.

"Sorry. I thought I might need backup,” he explained, “Guess I'm not even worth sending professionals for."

"Are you all right?" Erik asked.

"Fine,” Bull waved him off, “Hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed. You probably know they used Saar-qamek, liquid form. If I hadn't been taking the antidote as a precaution, I'd be going crazy and puking my guts up right now. As it is, it stings like shit, but that's about it. "

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He sighed and leaned against the rampart. "I just… it hurts, you know? Sending two guys with blades against me? That's not a hit. That's a formality. Just making it clear I'm Tal-Vashoth. Tal-Va- _fucking_ -shoth."

“Hey,” Erik snapped, “Look at me, dude.” Bull complied, turning his one good eye toward him.

“It doesn’t matter what the Qun would call you,” Erik told him sternly, “You’re not a part of it anymore. You’re free. As free as I was when I arrived in Thedas. So what if the Qunari call you Tal-Vashoth? They’re wrong. That’s not who you are.”

“And who am I, then?”

“You’re the Iron Fucking Bull, that’s who,” Erik reminded him. Bull frowned and shook his head.

“That’s a character,” he lied to himself, “Something I put on to do my duty for the Qun.”

“Was it? There’s one of two options here. You’re either lying to yourself or lying to the Chargers. Have you ever lied to your boys?”

“Never,” Bull retorted, clearly getting upset.

“Then you’re lying to yourself,” Erik said with a scowl, “Accept it. You’ve been questioning the Qun for a very long time but you never saw a way out. You didn’t make The Iron Bull to play spy for the Ben-Hassrath. You played Ben-Hassrath so you could be Iron Bull.”

“Except I’m not Ben-Hassrath anymore,” he reminded Erik.

He spread his arms. “Perfect. That means you don’t have to lie to yourself anymore.”

Bull didn’t respond. Erik sighed and leaned forward against the wall. He decided to switch to Qunlat.

“ _I know your greatest fear is madness,”_ he said to the kossith, “ _Not the idea of it; that you’ll one day succumb to it._ ”

“ _And how would you know that?_ ” Bull asked angrily.

“ _There will be an event very soon where you are faced with it_ ,” Erik explained cryptically, “ _Where we’re all faced with our greatest fears. I’ve seen it._ ”

“ _How can you be sure I won’t become like the rest of them?_ ” Bull asked. Erik pointed down toward the courtyard, where Herah, Lavellan, and a handful of other soldiers were laughing and making their way into the tavern.

“ _Herah is doing just fine for herself,_ ” he pointed out, “ _If she can do it, so can you._ ”

“ _Herah never knew the Qun,_ ” the kossith argued stubbornly, “ _A life outside it is all she’s ever known_.”

“ _Her parents knew it,_ ” Erik informed him, “ _They left. Became Tal-Vashoth. I’m friends with Herah._ _She talks about her parents all the time._ _She still writes to them; they live in_ _Rivain_ _._ _O_ _wn a bakery_ _in Dairsmund_ _.”_

“ _Her parents were bakers? That’s hardly the same circumstance, you realize.”_

“ _Her father was a Saarebas,”_ Erik sighed, registering the way Bull’s eye widened, “ _Her mother was his Arvaarad. They fell in love and left.”_

“ _And they just, what, live a peaceful life in_ _Dairsmund_ _? A Qunari mage and a former Arvaarad?_ ” Bull scoffed, “ _Erik, I was a spy. I can smell a bullshit story when I see one.”_

He shrugged. “ _Talk to her about it._ _She’s a sweet girl, as wicked a fighter as she is. She’d be willing to talk to you about it.”_

He eyed the entrance to the tavern for a long moment, clearly thinking about Erik’s words. Finally, Bull sighed and his shoulders sagged.

“Alright,” he said in Common. It took several seconds for Erik’s brain to switch languages, and while it was processing the change, Bull had begun to lumber off.

“And talk to Dorian while you’re at it!” Erik called after him with a smile.

"Will do," Bull called before stopping and turning back to Erik, "Erik? Let the boss know that whatever I miss, whatever I regret... this is where I want to be. Whenever you need an ass kicked, The Iron Bull is with you guys."

“Tell her yourself,” Erik responded, “You’re a free man now, Bull. Nothing’s stopping you anymore.”

* * *

Evelyn found Cassandra in the War Room, gazing at the map. She blinked in surprise. Cassandra never showed up to War Councils anymore. On top of that, Evelyn was an hour early to the meeting.

"Something I can help you with?"

Cassandra sighed. "Yes. Possibly. We saw so many Red Templars at the assault on Haven. Perhaps all that was left of the Order, aside from those Erik saved at Therinfal Redoubt. What we _didn't_ see was Lord Seeker Lucius. Indeed, I've seen no hint of any Seekers amongst the Red Templars. Or anywhere. I've a growing suspicion Corypheus has imprisoned them."

"Finding them obviously means a lot to you," Evelyn noted. She’d never seen the Seeker truly worried before. Upset, absolutely. Distraught? Possibly. But never worried.

"I left the Order, but I can never abandon them," she said with a sigh as her shoulders fell, "I cannot even claim that rescuing them would be beneficial – they would not look kindly on the Inquisition. But even so, if there's a chance…"

"We'll find them, Cassandra," Evelyn reassured her.

"If we can spare resources to follow up on these leads, I would appreciate it."

She nodded. "I'll get Leliana's people on it."

It took two days for Leliana to come up with a location. Caer Oswin, in Eastern Ferelden. Which, in retrospect, explained why Erik’s Satinalia gift to Cassandra was a note that said ‘Caer Oswin’. Evelyn took Cassandra and a few of the others to scout out the location, only to find the fortress deathly silent.

"Caer Oswin. Odd that the trail should lead us here," Cassandra murmured as she gazed at the old, decrepit keep, "Bann Loren is a pious, unassuming man. What has he become involved in?"

"He might simply be a victim as well,” Evelyn suggested, doubting her own words.

"Let's see what lies within," Cassandra drew a raspy breath as she led the group into the fort.

There were no guards at the gate, nor anywhere around the keep for several miles. All was quiet, and eerily so, as if the stones themselves were holding their breath. They entered the keep and moved down the dank, nearly pitch-black hall before there was even a single glimpse of anyone. The man in question startled slightly; then he immediately drew his sword and rushed into the next room.

Evelyn’s team followed him into the next chamber. There were others were with the man, none of them a match for the Inner Circle in combat. They were cut down quickly. Evelyn burned through several at a time while Cole slit multiple enemy throats at once. Dorian herded a group of the enemy together with a horror spell, allowing Blackwall to crush the handful of combatants with his shield and sword, and before they knew it, the room was silent once more.

Cassandra crouched and examined one of the bodies. Once she was complete with her investigation, she let out a grunt of disgust.

"Promisers. I should have known,” she turned to Evelyn and explained, “The Order of Fiery Promise is a cult with… strange beliefs about the Seekers. They've hounded us for centuries."

"Define ‘strange beliefs,'" Blackwall said skeptically as he and the others examined the room.

"They believe _they_ are Seekers – the only rightful ones. They say we robbed their powers long ago, preventing them from ending the world," Cassandra shook her head.

"Ending the world?" Evelyn asked with raised eyebrows. A cult that wished for the destruction of the world sounded exactly like the kind that would join Corypheus.

"The only way to truly eradicate evil, in their eyes. 'The world will be reborn a paradise.'"

"Is it even possible to negotiate with them?" Evelyn asked, already knowing the answer.

"They're fanatics, drunk on whatever forbidden magic they can find to make themselves 'true' Seekers," she said in frustration, "This explains why the Seekers might be here, but not the connection to Corypheus."

The four of them continued on, finding the body of a Seeker not long after. They were mutilated and defiled, with their hands split from the webbing each finger to the wrist and their fingernails removed. The lips, too, were missing, as was part of the nose.

"A Seeker," Cassandra's voice hitched slightly, her eyes watery, "Did they torture him to death?" she asked as she shook with rage.

"The Promisers will pay for this," she hissed.

Evelyn knelt. The man – she could see it had been a man now – had clearly been dead for days, with slight signs of decay and rigor mortis having set in. Blackwall handed her a cloth from a nearby crate and she placed it over the man respectfully. They would build a pyre for him when they found the others, she decided.

There were Promisers in the courtyard, but they dispatched them swiftly, Cassandra fighting with a fury Evelyn had never seen from her before, even in the Seeker’s final moments in the future. She knelt down near the last one she had killed and took a piece of parchment from his coat pocket. She read it aloud.

"'As the Seekers of Truth have proven resistant to the effects of red lyrium, the Elder One has seen fit to place them in your care. Reclaim your destiny, and know that the Elder One expects your devotion as repayment.' Signed by Lord Samson, Commander of the Red Templars," Cassandra threw the parchment to the grass and stared after it, "Does Corypheus not realize the Promisers want the world to end? What use are they to him?"

"He’ll probably betray them when they outlive their purpose,” Evelyn reasoned, “That’s not what’s interesting to me. The letter said Seekers were resistant to red lyrium."

"Our abilities grant us many gifts, but resistance to red lyrium's corruption? That seems strange. Although it would explain why none of us have numbered among the Red Templars…” she fell silent, thinking for a moment, “And thus Seekers would be useless to Corypheus. He would have no leash to hold us."

"You sound worried."

"I am. The Seekers are my family."

They pushed further through the keep, hoisting open a large set of doors. Cassandra’s eyes went wide and she rushed forward. Evelyn raised an eyebrow at the act until she saw a young man lying at the base of the stairs.

"Daniel!" Cassandra called as she knelt next to him, "Daniel, can you hear me?"

"Cassandra?” he weakly pulled himself into a sitting position, his eyes going wide when they met the Right Hand’s face, "It is you. You're alive."

"As are you. I'm so glad I found you," she smiled warmly.

Evelyn studied the young man. She could see the veins beneath the young man's skin, which had grown a deathly pale and translucent, like too-thin parchment. The veins and arteries beneath the skin were a much darker red than they should be, and his eyes glowed unnaturally… just like the future versions of her friends in Redcliffe. Evelyn looked at Dorian, and he noticed the same thing, giving a small, sad nod. He was dying, and he knew it.

"No, they..." Daniel shook his head and swallowed, "Put a demon inside me. It's tearing me up."

"What? You can't be possessed – that's impossible," Cassandra seemed shocked, shifting backward slightly from Daniel.

"I'm not possessed. They… fed me things. I can feel it growing."

"Can we do anything?" Blackwall asked. Evelyn gave him a silent, sad look, and he understood.

"I..." Cassandra was full of empty hope as she responded to Blackwall, "Don't know. This thing inside him..."

Daniel tightened his hand around hers. "The Lord Seeker. You have to find him."

"Of course we'll find him. If he lives, we'll –"

" _Lucius betrayed us_ , Cassandra," Daniel coughed, "He sent us here, one by one. 'An important mission,' he said. Lies. He was here with them all along. He's still working with them."

"But we met Lord Seeker Lucius in Val Royeaux," I remembered, "He couldn't have been here."

"That wasn't him. It was a demon, masquerading."

Erik had killed a demon he said was playing the part of Lucius at Therinfal Redoubt. Suddenly, the pieces came crashing together for Evelyn, and with more force than she would have hoped.

Cassandra looked shocked. "What? How could that be?"

"The Lord Seeker allowed it. He let the demon take command, while he..."

Lucius gave the Seekers up willingly, she realized. Evelyn's heart sank for her friend. "Cassandra..."

"Now is not the time for sympathy," she snapped, her hands balling as she stood, clearly determined to find the Lord Seeker.

"Wait. Don't leave me like this. Please..." Daniel whimpered.

"You should have come with me. You didn't believe in the war any more than I did," Cassandra said in a whisper as tears streamed down her face.

He smiled weakly up at her and let out a feeble laugh. "You know me. I wanted that promotion."

She drew her sword with trembling hands. "Go to the Maker's side, Daniel. You will be welcome."

Evelyn forced herself to looked on as Cassandra ended the man's life.

She was weeping openly now. "He was my apprentice. I have never known a finer young man,” she said, her voice dropping to nearly a growl, "Now we find Lord Seeker Lucius."

Evelyn wished there was something to say to her. But, in Erik’s words, to lose a comrade is like losing a brother, a brother, or a lover. It leaves a hole that can never be mended, no matter how small it gets. She, in a way, knew her pain and knew there was nothing to say.

They headed on, now stalking the keep like a hungry pack of wolves. Eventually, they stumbled on the man I’d seen in Val Royeaux. Cassandra glanced at me quickly before looking at the man.

"Lord Seeker Lucius."

"Cassandra," he walked towards their group, flanked by Reed Templars, only for his eyes to glance towards Evelyn nervously, "With a woman I can only assume is the new Inquisitor."

Evelyn’s face twisted in disgust. "You must be very proud of your handiwork."

He stopped his approach and sighed. "I presume you know we Seekers of Truth were once the original Inquisition. Oh, yes. We fought to restore order in a time of madness long ago, as you do now. And we became proud. We sought to remake the world – to make it better," he explained with disgust, "But what did we create? The _Chantry_. The Circles of Magi. A war that will see no end."

Evelyn, took a breath, realizing she was more collected than she thought she’d be. "Regardless, you lured your entire Templar Order to their deaths!"

"There was no other choice,” he said, face full of resignation.

"No other choice?" Cassandra spat incredulously, "Have you gone mad?"

"We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra," his fists clenched, "We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it even as it crumbled. We had to be stopped." Lucius turned to one of the Templars and grabbed a gigantic tome that looked similar to the writ that launched the Inquisition in the first place.

"You don't believe me? See for yourself,” he said, tossing the tome to Cassandra, "The secrets of our Order, passed to me after the former Lord Seeker was slain. The war with the mages had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing."

"And this was the right thing?" Evelyn laughed in disgust.

"Lord Seeker, what you've done..." Cassandra said through tears of rage.

"I know," he said, clearly convinced he was doing the right thing as he spread his hands, "What Corypheus did with the Templars does not matter. I have seen the future. I have created a new Order to replace the old. The world will end so we can start anew – a pure beginning. Join us, Cassandra. It is the Maker's will."

Cassandra made a sound like a lion as she drew her sword and charged the Lord Seeker.

Cassandra took a heavy, rage-filled breath and bent to wipe her blade. "He was insane. He had to be," she looked up at Evelyn, and the younger woman was shocked to see a reflection of rage in the Seeker’s normally stoic face, "The influence of Corypheus, perhaps? Was he trying to disable the Seekers?"

The mage looked at the bodies her companions were moving as Dorian created a pyre. "All these wasted lives..."

Cassandra put words to her unspoken thoughts. "He could not have destroyed all of us. I won't accept it." 

She grabbed the book. "Let us return to Skyhold. I wish to see what's in this 'book of secrets.'" She walked away as the pyre of Seekers burned behind them, the second thousand-year-old order Corypheus had destroyed going up in the smoke of charred skin.

It had been two weeks since Caer Oswin, and Evelyn had not seen Cassandra since the incident. Both Leliana and Erik recommended giving her some space. Now, she’d decided enough was enough, and she dragged her brother to Cassandra’s loft.

The two saw what was potentially the final Seeker of Truth sitting at the table in her room, staring at the book. Evelyn and Erik sat across from her as she sighed.

"This tome has passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker, since the time of the old Inquisition. And now it falls to me," she said in an exhausted voice.

"Are you all right?" Evelyn asked, pulling out a glass of fine Antivan brandy, a gift from a pious lord, "You look drained."

She smiled softly. "On the contrary, it's a delight. I'm riveted."

She was clearly joking. Evelyn gave her a smirk of approval and poured her a glass.

"I assume you know about the Rite of Tranquility?” Evelyn nodded. How could she not? Her friends had been subjected to it, removing them of everything that they were. It was always held over every Circle mage’s head as the ultimate punishment: a fate worse than death.

Cassandra sighed, looking at the tome. "The last resort used on mages in the Circle, leaving them unable to cast but depriving them of dreams and all emotion. It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities… But that has not always been the case."

Evelyn resisted the urge to spit in disgust as she thought of the taboo subject. "Does the book say it was used for other things?"

"No. As a Seeker, I looked into..." she thought for a moment, searching for the right words. Finally, her shoulders dropped and she continued, "Abuses. Mages made Tranquil as punishment. What finally began the Mage Rebellion was a discovery made by Archmage Wynne and Senior Enchanter Pharamond. They learned that the Rite of Tranquility could be _reversed_. The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up – harshly. There were deaths."

Evelyn turned to her brother. “I’m assuming you know about this?” she asked.

Erik nodded. “I know all of this and more. I’ve always known that Tranquility can be reversed, that Wynne was involved, and that Lambert died at the hands of none other than our Cole, who was then known as the Ghost of the White Spire. But it wasn’t my discovery to make or my story to tell.”

Cassandra nodded her thanks to the man. "It was dangerous knowledge. The shock of its discovery in addition to what happened in Kirkwall," she looked back down in woe at the book. "But Erik is right. It appears we've always known how to reverse the rite. From the beginning."

The Inquisition was sheltering dozens of Tranquil. Evelyn had spoken with several Mages about reversing the Rite, as well as Solas. She wanted to reverse it if it was possible and safe. But she needed to know more before making such a monumental decision.

"Why keep that knowledge a secret?"

"Because we created the Rite of Tranquility," Cassandra swallowed a large gulp of brandy as if to wash out the words. Evelyn gaped at her in shock for a moment, then turned toward Erik, who was staring on with a somber, stoic look. Cassandra continued.

"To become a Seeker, I spent months in a vigil, emptying myself of all emotion. I was made Tranquil, and did not even know,” the Seeker seemed to suppress a shudder at the thought, “Then the vigil summoned a spirit of faith to touch my mind. That broke Tranquility – and gave me my abilities. The Seekers did not share that secret. Not with me, not with the Chantry. Not even with..."

Cassandra sighed and walked to the window, leaning on the sill as she looked out. "There's more. Lucius was not wrong about the Order. I thought to rebuild the Seekers once victory was ours. Now I'm not certain it deserves to be rebuilt."

Evelyn looked at my friend, once her captor, and ran my thumb along the lip of my glass, and came to the conclusion of refusing to choose. “I can’t make that decision for you. But know that I’ll support your decision, no matter what you decide.”

"Thank you," Cassandra turned and sat back down, "I could not have done this on my own."

“Now that we’ve got that conversation out of the way, how are you feeling, Cassandra?” Erik asked in a gentle voice. The woman sighed and wiped at the corner of her eye.

“It has been… difficult,” she sighed, “Daniel was my friend. And my pupil. I trained him for nearly ten years, from when he was just a boy. I almost raised him… he knew me more than he knew his own parents. Seekers usually only take one apprentice, and two at most. He is… he _was_ the closest thing I have ever had to a son.”

Erik let out a small breath. “I don’t know about losing someone you could think of as a child. But I know what it’s like to lose people. You know that. If it ever becomes too difficult, you can come to me. No questions asked.”

She nodded and let out a small sniffle. “Thank you.”

Evelyn refilled her glass, then filled hers and Erik’s. “To Daniel,” she said with finality, raising her drink.

Cassandra smiled sadly, and with trembling lips, she raised her glass in response. “To Daniel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Omerta by Lamb of God - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-xYZM04JxnQ
> 
> Omertà - secrecy sworn to by oath; code of silence.
> 
> For those of you that don't know, CAG is Delta Force. It isn't the official name of the unit, but it is the last known name of it. Getting into it is possibly the most difficult thing in the military, and the men that make up the unit are actual legends.


	39. Estranged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian confronts his father. Evelyn confronts her parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bioware/EA owns Dragon Age. This is merely a transformative work.

He found himself in the garden not long after, unsure of why he’d even gone there in the first place. It was a very nice place, but he had no reason to be there, and it was often too crowded for his liking. Not only did the visiting nobility like to congregate there, Pana’s school classes often took place in the garden meaning it was full of children more often than not. It was too many things happening at once for him and reminded him too much of combat.

Yet for some reason, he found himself in the garden nonetheless. He thought of a reason why his wanderings would have brought him there, and then he spotted Morrigan, sitting alone as she watched her son from across the garden on what was an oddly quiet day in the area. He approached the woman, curious as to whether she would even _want_ a friend.

“Morrigan.”

“Champion. Or is it just Erik?” she said with a barbed tongue.

“Calling me the Champion of Andraste would be akin to calling you the Witch of the Wilds. A title we didn’t choose that constricts people’s views of who we are,” he sighed, “Do you mind if I sit?”

She gestured to the open seat next to her and Erik sat smoothly. Kieran was with a young girl about his age with blonde hair and a splattering of freckles. He was showing her something in a book, and while the girl seemed interested, she kept glancing up at him every so often and lingering there for slightly too long before glancing back down and blushing.

“Someone has a crush on your boy,” Erik said with a smile. Morrigan’s lips twisted into something melancholy that he couldn’t quite place.

“I was coming to the same conclusion myself,” the witch admitted, “Her name is Cecile. She’s the daughter of a noble I knew at the Orlesian Court. She is here to learn from that Qunari woman.”

“Pana,” Erik nodded, “She was a Tamassran for a while. Came to the Inquisition to protect her child.”

“A sentiment I can understand,” Morrigan said, “And a smart woman. She picked up Common rather quickly, I heard.”

Erik gave her a look, confused at her complimentary attitude. “This isn’t the woman with the barbed tongue that I know. Who are you and what have you done with Morrigan?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh? You wish for _that_ side of me, do you? Let’s start with all your misgivings.”

“On second thought, let’s not,” Erik stammered, immediately regretting his decision.

“Firstly, your taste in women,” she clicked her tongue, “‘Tis horrid. I didn’t like Leliana when she was the glassy-eyed Chantry sister. Now I don’t know whether to hate her even more or be scared of her ability to fetter out information. Secondly, you stole an entire eluvian network without knowing what to do with it. There are far easier ways to achieve power that will ruin one’s life, you understand.”

“There’s a reason I stole those,” Erik defended.

“Oh? Pray tell, then, what that reason is?” she asked with a small amount of humor in her voice.

Erik sighed. “I wish I could tell you.”

“Which leads me to my third point,” she said, wasting no time, “Your actions are more secretive than mine during the Blight. And in terms of your personality, you’re too much like my husband.”

“If that’s a misgiving, why did you marry him?” Erik asked in confusion.

“It is not a misgiving, ‘tis just… unnerving,” she explained with a frown, “You look nothing like him, and in many ways, you _act_ nothing like him, yet you and he could be twins separated at birth. I hate that more than I hate that idiot sitting on the Fereldan throne.”

“Alright, fine,” Erik laughed, “You still have it.”

“See to it that you don’t forget,” she said with a smug smile. They lapsed back into silence.

Erik and Morrigan sat together quietly for a very long time, simply watching. After a while, he glanced over to the witch on his right and saw a soft, gentle smile on her face as she watched over her son.

"I hated the idea of being a mother, at first," she said finally. Erik merely raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued.

"I remember the first time he kicked. 'Twas such an alien feeling; I did not know how to react to this... thing growing inside me."

"What changed?" Erik asked. Her brow furrowed in thought.

"The birth was agony. That boy simply did not want to come out. I had the luck to run across a midwife in the village I was traveling through, and she helped me through the process," she sighed, "When he  was  finally  birthed , he screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and I wanted nothing but for it to cease. Then the midwife cleaned him off, swaddled him in a blanket, and handed him to me, and he looked me in the eyes and stopped crying."

"I can't imagine what that was like," Erik admitted, "That must be a surreal thing to see."

She nodded and her throat moved shakily. "I remember simply staring at him for so long. He was so small, so helpless. So weak. He was everything I had been taught to despise. And yet I knew that I would let the world burn if it meant his safety. That I would let no harm come to him so long as I drew breath. And I still feel that way today."

She heaved a deep, heavy sigh. " Aedan says I'm almost overprotective, that I should let the boy run freely now and then. But he doesn't know. He doesn't know what I've sacrificed to keep our son safe."

"Is that a wedge between you two? How to raise him?" Erik asked a bit tentatively.

Morrigan shrugged. "'Tis the nature of things. 'Boys will be boys', as they say. Kieran is my love's pride and joy. He has been a good husband and a good father. Kieran... misses him greatly."

The way she said that made it seem like she was saying _I miss him greatly_ , but he knew better than to press.

Before the conversation could go further, Mother Giselle approached the duo. Erik raised an eyebrow at her approach; from what he’d heard, she’d stayed as far from she could from Morrigan.

“Champion,” the Mother greeted.

“Mother Giselle,” Erik greeted, “What can I do for you?”

Giselle glanced nervously at  Morrigan before speaking again. "I have news regarding one of the Inquisitor’s… companions. The Tevinter. I would have brought it to her directly, but the Inquisitor is in a meeting,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose.

"Is that a note of distaste I detect, Mother Giselle?" Erik said with a hint of warning. He knew that some, perhaps most, distrusted Dorian, but the man was still his friend.

"I… admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable, Champion,” Giselle admitted reluctantly, “But my feelings are of no importance. I have been in contact with his family: House Pavus, of Qarinus. Are you familiar with them?"

"I am. They aren’t on good terms."

"Yes, I believe you're correct,” she handed Erik a single-page letter, "The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid. They've asked to arrange a meeting. Quietly, without telling him. They fear it's the only way he'll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I'd hoped..."

Erik took the paper with a scowl. "If you think I'm going to trick Dorian into meeting his family, you don’t understand me at all, Mother Giselle."

"The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe tavern to take him onward. If he truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end the matter there," Giselle sighed, realizing he wouldn’t budge, "I pray you change your mind, Champion. Perhaps their letter will persuade you. If there is any chance of success in this, it behooves us to act."

Erik waited until she was out of earshot, then let out a curse.

“She only wants Dorian to go to this meeting because it’s an opportunity to get him out of Skyhold,” he grunted.

“‘Twas my conclusion, as well,” Morrigan agreed.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Cousland, I have a letter to deliver to my friend,” he bit out as he stood.

“Call me Lady Cousland again and I will turn you into a frog,” Morrigan warned.

“No you won’t, Lady Cousland,” he laughed, calling her bluff. Morrigan crossed her arms and legs and gave him a scowl, and Erik rolled his eyes and went to find Dorian.

“Ah, Erik,” Dorian greeted when he found the Tevene, “I do hope the other night’s little gathering was cathartic.”

Erik gave him a sad look and glanced down at the parchment in  his hand. "Dorian, there's a letter you need to see."

"A letter?" his eyebrows wiggled as he smiled childishly, "Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?"

"It's from your father."

All trace of humor vanished from his face. He began to rub his fingertips together aimlessly. "From my father. I see. And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?"

"A meeting."

Dorian leaned on the railing for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before turning back toward him. "Show me this letter." Erik placed it in his hand and sat down in Dorian’s little alcove.

He paced throughout the library as he read it, his grip creating deep, long folds in the parchment. "'I know my son.' What my father knows of me would barely fill a _thimble_. This is so typical. I'm willing to bet this 'retainer' is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter."

Erik wanted to tell him that his father would actually be there but decided to be his friend’s therapist for a moment. "You think your father would actually do that?"

"No. Although I wouldn't put it past him," he thought for a moment, then nodded in determination, "Let's go. Let's meet this so-called 'family retainer'. If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. You're good at that. Best in the castle, I’d wager. If it's not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his alarm in his 'wit's end.'"

“I’m not going to ask what happened, because I already know,” Erik said somberly, “But know that whatever decision you make, I’m going to support you.”

Dorian gave him a small smile. “Thank you. That means… more than you know.”

"Let's go meet this retainer, then. We'll leave in the morning."

"I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed?" he sighed, "We'll find out soon enough."

Erik dreaded the moment Dorian realized that there was no retainer.

“You aren’t going to tell him?” Leliana asked.

“Not until we get to Redcliffe. If he knew he wouldn’t even show up,” Erik reasoned.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know Dorian,” Erik sighed, “He doesn’t want to see his father ever again.”

“Then why are you taking him there?” Evelyn asked in confusion.

“Because Halward Pavus is dying,” he said with finality, “And this is one of the last times Dorian will ever get to see him. In 9:44 Dragon, Dorian will inherit his father’s seat in the Magisterium. I wasn’t on very good terms with my father when he died, and it still hurt that I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. I regret it every day. I want Dorian’s father to have the opportunity to make amends before he passes. And I want Dorian to have the opportunity to forgive his father before he’s gone and Dorian wonders for the rest of his life whether his father ever regretted his actions.”

“You’re taking quite a bit of risk here, Erik,” Evelyn warned him, “Dorian is your friend. He could view this as a betrayal.”

“And it’ll be worth it if he comes out of there with even a shred of a relationship with his father,” Erik sighed, “Both my parents are dead. I don’t want Dorian to lose one while he hates him. And I want his father to understand his son before he dies.”

“Fine,” Leliana sighed, “We can’t stop you. Go to this meeting, but remember that if you lose a friend, it’s on your hands, not ours.”

Erik nodded. “I know.”

The y arrived in Redcliffe five days later. Erik had never been to the _actual_ city, so Dorian had to guide him to the tavern. Right before they entered, Dorian turned to Erik.

“Well, this is it,” Dorian sighed, “Are you ready to see how dreadful my family is?”

“Dorian, before we go in, there’s something I want to tell you,” Erik winced, “There is no retainer. There was never going to _be_ a retainer.”

“Really? Well, perhaps that’s one thing your story got wrong, then,” Dorian laughed, pointing at a staff in a weapons rack outside the tavern, “Because that style of staff is rather common in Tevinter.”

And then Dorian stepped into the building, followed by Erik, who slung his rifle behind his back. The tavern was empty. Dorian’s hand immediately went for his staff.

"Uh-oh. Nobody's here. This doesn't bode well," he murmured, sharing a strange look with Erik, who was going behind the empty bar to fill up a mug of ale. He would need it for this, he figured. Dorian was about to turn and leave when a voice spoke from near the stairwell.

"Dorian."

Erik saw Dorian freeze. He turned back toward the voice, an expressionless look on his face.

"Father."

Erik studied Halward Pavus. He was old, that much was clear, with more salt than pepper in his hair, and a sad, tired look on his face. Erik could instantly see the resemblance between the two men, and even more if he mentally shaved Dorian’s almost signature facial hair.

“This… _this_ is what you meant when you said there would be no retainer?” Dorian asked in shock. Erik nodded sadly as he finished filling the mug.

Dorian faced his father once more. "So the whole story about the 'family retainer' was just,” he clenched his jaw and bit out the next words, "What? A smokescreen?" Magister Halward ignored his son’s question and turned to Erik. He inclined his head politely.

"I apologize for the deception, Champion,” he said, correctly guessing Erik’s identity, “I never intended for you or the Inquisitor to be involved."

"Of course not," Dorian scoffed dismissively, "The great Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people _think_?"

Dorian began to slowly advance on his father, his face full of rage. "What is 'this' exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?"

Magister Pavus sighed and looked back at Erik. "This is how it has always been.”

He narrowed his eyes at him and set the ale down. "And for good reason. But that’s not the point, right now. You went through all of this, came a thousand miles south in the middle of a war, just to get Dorian here. Talk to him."

"Yes, Father. Talk to me. Let me hear how _mystified_ you are by my anger," Dorian seethed as he spit his words in a mocking tone.

"Dorian, there's no need to –"

Dorian turned to Erik as he shook with rage. "I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves."

Erik looked at his friend. “This is not exactly news, Dorian. Especially to me. You know that."

"And why should it be? Why should anyone care? I have no idea," Dorian shook his head with frustration.

“This display is uncalled for,” Halward said in a stern tone.

“No, it _is_ called for,” Dorian snapped, “ _You_ called for it by luring me here.”

“This is not what I wanted,” his father tried to explain.

Erik decided to step in. "Your father is here to reach out. You could give him a chance."

Dorian looked at him with a slightly hurt look. "Let's just go."

"Dorian, please, if you'll only listen to me," Magister Pavus begged, taking a couple of steps toward them. Erik instinctively reached for his rifle, determined to protect his friend if things went completely sideways.

But it was unnecessary. Dorian finally snapped."Why? So you can spout more convenient lies?” he stormed toward his father, fury filling his face as he spoke to Erik, "He taught me to hate blood magic. 'The last resort of the weak mind.' Those are _his_ words. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to… change me."

Erik heard his voice waver and break at the end, and his heart went out to his friend. No parent should ever conceive of doing something so unforgivable to their child. There wasn’t even a word he could think of to describe it. Evil was not enough.

"I only wanted what was best for you," the father pleaded.

"You wanted what was best for _you,_ ” the son’s words cut through the air like a whip, "For your _fucking_ legacy. Anything for that."

Dorian began to move for the door once again, but Erik held his hand up and looked at his friend with sorrow in his eyes. "Don't leave it like this, Dorian. You'll never forgive yourself. I still haven’t forgiven myself, and it’s been a decade since my father passed."

They stared at each other for a moment, Dorian’s expression completely unreadable. After a tense second, he gave a small nod and turned back to his father. "Tell me why you came."

"If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition –"

Dorian cut him off. "You _didn't_. I joined the Inquisition because it was the right thing to do," he shook his head in slight disgust at his father, "Once I had a father who would have known that."

He turned away, and Erik didn’t stop him. His friend was clearly exhausted. They both took a few steps toward the door when Pavus spoke again.

"Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed," he said in a small, broken voice that projected the deepest of regrets, "I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me."

Dorian looked at in question, and Erik gave him a small smile. The son took a deep breath and turned back around as Erik left the two men to make amends.

  
  


Erik was waiting by their horses when Dorian returned. He raised an eyebrow at his friend, who gave him an exhausted look as they mounted and left Redcliffe.

"He says we're alike. Too much pride," Dorian said sadly as they rode, "Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him."

Erik gave a nod. "I understand completely. What he did was deplorable,” he glanced at his friend’s emotionless face, “Are you all right?"

Dorian looked at him sadly. "No. Not really. But thank you for bringing me out there. It wasn't what I expected, but… it's something." They lapsed into silence as they rode, and it lasted for quite some time.

"Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display," the Tevene sighted breaking the quiet with an embarrassed tone.

"I think you're very brave," Erik shrugged.

Dorian blinked and turned toward him. "Brave?"

"Of course. It's not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path."

Dorian looked as though he were about to cry for a moment, and then he covered it up with his usual humor. "At any rate, I think I’ll drink myself into a stupor when we return to Skyhold. It's been that sort of day. Or week, perhaps. Join me sometime, if you’ve a mind.”

Erik gave him a smile and drew his horse closer so he could wrap his arm around the Altus in a quick hug. The two friends rode back to Skyhold feeling lighter.

* * *

“ Vivienne is secretly a blood mage,” Evelyn suggested. Erik shook his head with a smile and Evelyn cursed and took a sip of beer. Since Erik refused to share his information with anyone unless the time was right, Evelyn and he had come to an agreement. She would guess something that he knew that no one else in the world did, and if she was right, he had to take a drink. If she wasn’t, she would drink.

She hadn’t managed to get Erik to drink once in  the five-week history of their game. It came as no surprise to Evelyn, but it was still frustrating.

“Lyrium is blood,” she laughed, thinking about what a ridiculous notion it was that lyrium would  _ ever  _ be –

Erik smiled and downed his entire drink as she stared on in shock.

“Wait, _ seriously _ ?” she asked as Erik wiped his lips.

“Yep. Now guess what creature and I’ll buy you drinks for a month,” he smiled.

“ A gibbering horror.” That was one drink. Before she could give her second guess, a knock came at the door.

“Enter,” she called down the stairs. A runner came into her quarters, some young boy who had wide eyes and a scared face every time he entered Evelyn’s quarters, no matter how kind she was to him.

“Pardon the interruption, Your Worship,” he stammered, “But we have a visitor.”

“Oh? Anyone special?” she asked with a smile.

“They’re claiming they’re your parents, My Lady.”

The smile fell from Evelyn’s lips. She turned to Erik.

“Already on it,” he said, heading to his room to grab his rifle. She stood and headed down the stairs after him.

“Tell Josephine I said to give you a bonus,” she told the boy as they descended from the Inquisitor’s Tower, “I’ve been waiting for this day for twenty years.”

Erik met them outside his and Leliana’s rooms and followed them down the stairs and into the Great Hall. 

“ I’m going to warn you right now, Erik. I’m not Dorian. Nothing they can say or do will change my view of the two people that just entered _ my _ castle without _ my _ permission,” she bit out.

“Too easy, Ev,” he responded calmly.

Evelyn’s mind was blank with rage as she stormed into the Hall, her eyes wild as she tried to locate the two. As soon as she saw them, she froze in the foyer, staring at the people that had given her life, and immediately sobered up to study her parents.

Her mother looked eerily similar to the last she remembered her, with curling red hair pulled back from her face and sparkling emerald eyes. Her features were delicate, though Evelyn could see the signs of age around her eyes and mouth. Her hands, like most of her other features, were delicate and had clearly never seen a day of work in their lives. She still held herself pompously, as though the world owed her something and had yet to pay its debt.

Her father looked slightly older than when she last saw the man, but not by much. His short, dark brown hair was peppered with grey, as was his neatly trimmed beard. His bright blue eyes were soft, and not in a good way -- they were soft in a way that conveyed a lack of any sort of worldly experience that mattered. His shoulders were drawn back and his head held high, and there wasn't even a blemish on his lightly tanned skin.

"Ah, Bann Trevelyan. Lady Trevelyan. This is an unexpected visit. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Josephine asked diplomatically as she entered the hall from her office.

"We have come to see our daughter," her father said shortly.

"Your daughter isn't here," Evelyn finally spoke, her voice holding even less warmth than she felt, "I suggest you leave."

Her mother laughed her shrill, fake laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, my dear. We've come to speak with you."

"There's nothing to speak about. Our previous interactions have made it abundantly clear that you want nothing to do with me," Evelyn responded, her voice somehow growing colder as she balled her fists and prepared to force them out of her castle.

Erik crossed his arms. "If the Inquisitor wants you to leave, then you'll have to leave," he declared, "We have much work to do this evening, Her Worship more than most."

Lord Trevelyan gave Erik a pompous look. "And you are?"

"Erik Andersen. A pleasure," he held his hand out for the Bann, who tentatively shook it. Once Erik closed the distance between the two, Evelyn could see how much bigger he was than her father. And not just in height, but physical mass as well. She noticed him feel the Bann's hand as they shook. She knew it would be soft. Just like everything else beneath his façade of superiority.

"No title?" Lord Trevelyan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Staff Sergeant, if you need to use one," he responded cordially, his disdain for the lord clearly growing rapidly, "Or just Sergeant. That's how it's usually shortened."

"That's a military rank," Lady Trevelyan pointed out.

"Of course it is. I was military for almost a decade."

"Oh? Where was your war?" Trevelyan asked in her haughty voice.

"Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, Niger, Nigeria, The Ivory Coast, Mali, Ghana... Actually, just West Africa in general..." he trailed off.

"I have never heard of any of those places," Lady Trevelyan suspiciously noted.

"Sergeant Andersen is not from Thedas. Surely you have heard of the Champion of Andraste, no?" Cullen said as he entered the hall not even attempting to smooth out the rocky start to the impromptu meeting. He glanced toward Evelyn and their eyes met; she understood what he was trying to do.

"Ah, yes, we have heard of the... Herald and Champion," Lady Trevelyan said nervously.

"This is beside the point," Evelyn barked as she felt her patience wear thin, "Why are you here?"

"I want to speak with my daughter," Lady Trevelyan said softly, "And I am seeing you finally, after so long."

Evelyn’ s scowl deepened and she crossed her arms as she approached the two nobles . "Your daughter is dead. She died the day you sent her to the Circle and called her an 'abomination in the Maker's eyes’. She became Enchanter Evelyn Trevelyan, then Senior Enchanter. And now, Senior Enchanter Trevelyan is dead, too. You're speaking with the Inquisitor."

Erik gave his sister a small smile that she didn’t return. They had spoken a few times about her relationship with her birth family. Or, perhaps, her lack of a relationship would be more accurate. Her disdain for her parents was evident in their conversations, even before this confrontation. And as unpleasant as this was for her, he was clearly happy to see how much she had grown into her position.

"You don't need to posture, my dear," Lord Trevelyan said, taking a few steps forward, his wife following suit, "We are only here to-"

Their movement was their mistake. Evelyn was already coiled like a snake ready to strike. But the couple across from them, who had only ever dealt with petty noble games, could not see an individual about to resort to their weapon. And Evelyn's weapon was magic.

She let loose the spell she had been preparing since the two idiots had entered Skyhold. At once, both Trevelyans froze in place with looks of terror painted on their features. Neither could move a muscle as Evelyn kept them paralyzed. She stalked toward them as a big cat would toward its meal.

"Inquisitor!" Josephine gasped in shock and a bit of fear even as she moved toward Evelyn. Erik caught  the ambassador’s shoulder and gave her a shake of his head.

"Listen to me, and listen to me very carefully," Evelyn growled through her teeth, "I have had a stressful  year, and I am on the brink of launching one of the biggest military operations this Age . I did not need this complication. You are cutting into the time I could be spending preparing for  the war I am currently fighting . But since you refuse to see the bigger picture, allow me to explain further.

"You are not my family. You gave me two things: my life and my name. After that, you tossed me out like a broken trinket when my abilities came to light. I was an afterthought. A parent's love is supposed to be unconditional, and because I'm something I couldn't choose not to be, you took that love away and sent me to a prison."

Lady Trevelyan looked as though she wanted to speak, but Evelyn forbade it with her magic.

"But I suppose I should be thanking you for that. After all, the Maker was kind enough to let me choose a new family. I have a brother that loves me for who I am. I have friends that care about my well-being. I have more life experience in my little finger than you both have in your bodies. I have seen and done things you would not believe.

"So thank you. Because if you didn't toss me out like a filthy rag, I would be just as pompous and soft and conceited as both of you are."

Evelyn released both of them, and they collapsed to the floor in shock. She watched them pick themselves up off the floor with panicked breaths and waited until they were standing to speak again.

“You have thirty seconds to be out of my sight,” she warned, “You have five minutes to be out of my castle. Fail to meet either time and I’ll flay both of you alive. With my mind.”

The Trevelyans moved faster than she thought they could. They were out of the Great Hall in ten seconds.

“Erik,” she called, vaguely aware of the dozens of eyes on her.

“Yes, Inquisitor?” he responded as he approached.

“Make sure the Trevelyans leave the Inquisition’s holdings.” He nodded and left the hall as she turned to Cullen.

“Let’s go,” she said sternly, “I need to speak with you.”

They went back to his office, where she stormed in with enough fury to level a building.

“ _Fuck_!” she shouted as Cullen closed the door behind them.

“Inquisitor, I understand if –”

“Please, Cullen,” she sighed, “Just Evelyn right now.”

He wrapped his arms around her and embraced her as she let the stress and frustration of the family that didn’t love her melt away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Estranged by Guns N' Roses - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VgRL8Htv7k
> 
> Shitty parents are a plague. If, for any reason, you were abused, either physically or mentally by your parents, know that they didn't deserve you, and that you're better off without them. If anyone ever needs to talk about it and professional resources are either not an option for any reason, I am more than willing to try and help.


	40. Silence in the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn hunts for Samson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps around time-wise. I'll give dates for this chapter so you guys know what is taking place when.
> 
> Also, all aboard the hype train. Remastered Mass Effect Trilogy and new Mass Effect game confirmed.
> 
> Bioware/EA own Dragon Age.

**26 Drakonis, 9:41** **Dragon**

“'Come join the Inquisition with me, Izzy.’ ‘No, I like the sea. It sounds like we’ll have to go to war in a bunch of shitty places.’ ‘No, they have a castle, we’ll probably just stay there most of the time.’”

Isabela was talking to herself as she sat around the fire with the rest of the group in Emprise du Lion. It sounded like she was mocking her wife, but Evelyn couldn’t be sure.

“Why the fuck did I ever agree with you, Marian?” she asked as she turned slightly, staring menacingly at the woman under the blanket next to her.

“We aren’t known for making the best decisions,” Hawke sighed.

Evelyn was loath to admit it, but she agreed with the two women. It was fucking _cold_. The ground was cold, the air was cold, and most of the water was frozen. It was a late winter, and Evelyn did not like that. No one seemed to like it, in fact. Their feet were cold, their hands were cold, and they slept in a pile at night to avoid freezing. It was still better than the frigid temperatures she and Erik had experienced on their little march through a blizzard after the Fall of Haven, but not by much. Isabela and Dorian were doing by far the worst, considering they were from much warmer climates. Varric couldn’t stop complaining, though he always complained – something he claimed he did because if he didn’t, someone would forget he was there and step on him. Solas merely had a grumpy look on his face the entire time but didn’t say a word. Bull seemed to not care at all, something he attributed to his being ‘warmer’, whatever that meant; Erik seemed to be cold, but she couldn’t tell, because he was covering everything up with humor. And something he called ‘corpse paint’.

The crunching of snow alerted everyone to a presence nearby, and they all jumped up and grabbed their weapons. Just in the distance, under the moonlight and a hint of the firelight, she could barely see a face. Either a skeleton or a demon, it was hard to judge at the distance the enemy was in the night. It seemed to be moving swiftly and comfortably, trudging ever closer to the camp.

Then she saw a pair of horns behind the ‘demon’ and she relaxed. It was just Erik and Bull.

“The red lyrium mines are about three kilometers from here,” Erik said as he confidently strode into the camp.

“Erik, can you take that stuff off your face, please? I thought you were a demon,” Evelyn sighed. And he did look like a demon. His entire face down to his neck painted in black and white, contrasting so much with his red hair that it looked like blood. The black was painted on around his eyes and lips, trailing off toward his neck and the rest of his head in jagged, twisted lines. He called it ‘corpse paint’, something some musicians back on Earth apparently used in a specific type of music. Erik was using it because it helped him blend into the snow better, and he stylized it because he concluded that it could be used as a scare tactic. That and, according to him, he wanted to look ‘metal as fuck’.

“No. I look kvlt as fuck. Hail Satan,” he said with a smile as he put his rifle down against a rock and scooped a bowl of stew into a bowl.

“You look like a corpse,” Dorian grumbled from his spot dangerously close to the flames.

“That’s the point, jimmy.”

“Have you even managed to scare anyone other than us with that?” Cassandra asked as she shivered, covered all the way to her head in her bedrolls.

“Oh, yeah,” Bull laughed, “Couple of Venatori were helping out the Red Templars. They didn’t see us, only the paint, and they started panicking about a ghost. It’s pretty effective camouflage, too. Might paint my vitaar on in the style.”

“Great. Now there’s two of them,” Varric rolled his eyes.

Evelyn sighed and looked up toward the sky. A cloud cover had begun to roll in, and it had begun to snow. Again. She thought about the places she’d gone so far. A dismal shithole future, a blistering shithole wasteland, a rainy shithole, a mountainous shithole, and now a frozen shithole. Why couldn’t she fight a war somewhere nice for a change?

She had to remind herself why she was there in the first place.

**13 Drakonis, 9:41 Dragon**

“The second smuggler camp is, like, four hundred meters south,” Erik murmured as he dropped back down next to Evelyn in the bush, his face covered in camouflage paint.

“How the fuck are you so good at this?” she hissed at him. He gave her a toothy grin, the white of his enamel exacerbated by the dark green and brown streaks on his face.

“This environment is exactly like Fort Bragg and a couple of the countries I went to war in,” he explained, “I’m basically an expert at stalking unsuspecting asshats in the woods.”

“Well, thank the Maker for that,” Blackwall sighed, “We’d be completely lost otherwise.”

“Not completely lost. Just mostly lost,” Erik chuckled as he pulled his rifle from his back and racked a round, “Now let’s go kill these sons of bitches and get this intel.”

They moved stealthily through the brush of the Emerald Graves as they came upon the group of three smugglers. They appeared to be eating, and their weapons were far away from them. Evelyn winced at the stupidity of the men as she dropped to her belly next to her brother. Together they crawled forward until they were almost inside a bush, and Erik brought his rifle up to his shoulder and adjusted his muffs.

She glanced to her left to see Sera kneeling in a shrub next to one of the massive trees that made up the forest canopy, drawing her bowstring so far back the barbed arrow’s fletching nearly touched her ear. To her right, Varric and Blackwall were also in the prone, with Varric shouldering Bianca and Blackwall acting as his spotter.

A moment later, she sent up her signal, a single, bright red light that contrasted against the green of the heavily wooded region. All at once, Varric, Sera, and Erik shot at their targets, and all three fell simultaneously, with Varric’s bolt catching one smuggler in the heart, Sera’s arrow lodging in a man’s throat, and Erik’s bullet driving itself into the third man’s head with a now familiar _crack_.

As soon as they were confident no more smugglers were in the area, they stood and moved toward the small camp. Erik moved with his rifle shouldered and put a round in each of the fallen smugglers, which was a habit he’d apparently developed during his military service. Evelyn, Blackwall, and Varric began searching for intelligence while Sera and Erik handled the bodies. After a minute, Varric wordlessly approached her and handed a small piece of parchment covered in poorly scrawled letters. She took the missive and read it over before sighing in frustration.

“We have confirmation. They’re selling to Samson. He wants this group to double their output.”

“Great. One more step to nailing that fucker against the wall,” Sera spat as she retrieved her arrow from the man’s neck.

“And one more step toward getting out of these shitty woods,” Varric grumbled as he tripped over a root.

“Maybe if you watched where you walked, you wouldn’t be eating dirt every ten minutes,” Blackwall laughed in a low rumble.

“Alright, let’s figure out where the third camp is,” Erik huffed as he cleared a small area of the smugglers’ cart and laid the map of the area atop it. He pulled out a compass, a device he had Dagna make for him, and placed it on the map before using a protractor to begin measuring distance.

Evelyn stood over him and watched. He found north and righted the map, then used a small piece of charcoal he’d found to mark their location. A second mark was placed on the area their scouts informed them of, and he began to measure distance. He then began drawing a fairly jagged line and measured that before murmuring something under his breath.

“It’s eighty-five degrees, so that direction,” he said, pointing east, “We’ll head on an azimuth of seventy-two degrees for two clicks, then ninety degrees for three and a half, then finally a hundred degree azimuth for six clicks. Should take us… about two hours. Maybe a little under that.”

“That’s assuming we don’t run into any trouble on the way there,” Blackwall pointed out.

“True. So we’ll shoot for three hours, then. Hopefully, we don’t run into any Freemen,” Evelyn sighed. They packed up their belongings and carefully took the red lyrium in the cart, which Erik carried due to his immunity to the substance. Evelyn shifted her staff on her back, and together with Erik, she led her small team through the woods and toward their next targets.

**27 Drakonis, 9:41 Dragon**

Evelyn really didn’t understand how Erik was lying so deathly still in the snow above the mine. He’d been up there for at least ten minutes on the snow-covered boulder and hadn’t moved a muscle next to Cassandra as she used Isabela’s spyglass to scout the mine with Erik. It was morning, with the sun completely over the horizon; or, at least, it would have been, if there hadn’t been a cloud covering that rolled in overnight. It obscured the best source of warmth they could have hoped for and made their situation that much more miserable.

Finally, Erik lowered his rifle from his shoulder and Cassandra lowered the spyglass. They shared a few words and then crawled on their stomachs back toward the rest of the group. Once they were out of sight of the Templars, they stood and brushed themselves off.

“Erik and I counted twenty-two Red Templars, one of them a Behemoth,” Cassandra informed her, “And no less than forty civilian prisoners.”

“Some of them are working the mines, so watch your shots and watch where you swing your weapon,” Erik informed them, his face impassive beneath the corpse paint, “The rest are caged in prison carriages.”

“Alright,” Evelyn nodded, “How do we do this?”

“Simple,” Bull shrugged, “Go in fast, kill everything fast, and free everyone before the Red guys can raise an alarm. There’s only one way in and the rocks are too steep to climb down. So it's a chokepoint. We just gotta move fast and have the element of surprise on our side.”

She grimaced and drew her staff. “Let’s go, then. Every minute is a chance we lose one of the prisoners.”

They marched down the path toward the mine and stopped just out of sight of their enemy. Their ranged fighters and Erik moved forward slightly, followed by their warriors and then the mages. Erik, Varric, and Sera all raised their weapons and together dipped them slightly, once, then twice then a third time. Then they all shot together. Erik fired six more rounds off as quickly and accurately as he could, and then Cassandra, Erik, and Bull rushed in, followed by Evelyn, Dorian, and Solas, who Fade-stepped after them.

They caught their enemy completely off guard. Evelyn chained a lightning spell between six of the Red Templars and rushed toward her paralyzed foes, swinging her staff blade at each of their throats and keeping her mouth shut as their tainted blood sprayed out of fresh wounds. Varric and Sera provided covering fire for the rest of them while Solas threw barriers and Veilstrikes left and right. Dorian had a group of Red Templar knights cowering in fear in a corner of the mine, easy prey for Bull, who swung his maul with so much force he actually flattened one of the Templars’ heads. Cassandra was dueling three Templars at once with no trouble at all, catching strike after strike with her shield, and following them up with powerful blows from her blade. Erik, the idiot that he was, decided to take on the Behemoth in the mine alone. He was shouting profanities at the monstrosity as he slashed at its tendons with his two blades, its clumsy and slow swings not quick enough to catch the man. He eventually caught a jutting piece of red lyrium on its torso and scrambled his way up to the beast’s head before straddling its wide shoulders and hacking at its skull. It fell to its knees and toppled forward, throwing her brother face-first into a snowdrift.

As soon as it had started, the skirmish was over, and Evelyn rushed over to where Erik was sprawled in the snow. She prepared herself to heal his wounds, but he flopped out of the drift with a giggle and bushed the powder from his armor.

“What the fuck?” Evelyn snapped, “When would you _ever_ think that was a good idea?”

Erik shrugged. “Y’all were preoccupied, and that thing needed to go down. Besides, I’m immune to the stuff, and if you move quickly enough the Behemoths are too big to hit you. I was just trying to take it out as quickly as possible.”

Evelyn opened her mouth to speak but then shut it. He had a point, in a twisted way.

“Fine. But if you die doing a little stunt like that, I’m not going to be the one to explain to Leliana that her lover died climbing onto a Behemoth in the middle of the fight.”

“That’s fair,” Erik shrugged. They turned to see that the prisoners in cages had been freed and were being helped out of their prisons. They looked malnourished, sleep-deprived, and weary, but none of them seemed to have been fed red lyrium.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked the civilians.

“Yes,” an old woman nodded as she spoke in a heavy Orlesian accent, “Thank you. They were going to turn us into that… that…”

An unnerving silence filled the mine, and Evelyn put the pieces together. The red lyrium in future Redcliffe. The lyrium growing out of the Red Templars. The odd way it seemed to take over plants and animals.

“Sweet Maker,” Cassandra breathed, “Inquisitor, they’re mining red lyrium from _people_.”

“I’ve seen some twisted shit in my day, but this? This certainly takes the cake,” Varric shook his head in disgust.

“Can you make it back to Sahrnia?” Solas asked as he finished checking over the weaker members of the group.

“I doubt it,” one of the healthier young men denied, “We have too many who are malnourished or wounded. Even the stronger ones would probably get caught by a Red Templar patrol.”

Evelyn nodded in response. “Stay here, for the time being. I’ll send Inquisition soldiers to help and to destroy the red lyrium.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” the elderly woman said with some of the most genuine gratitude Evelyn had ever heard.

She smiled at the woman and remembered why she was there.

**13 Drakonis, 9:41 Dragon**

“If these idiots didn’t even set up _some_ kind of security, they deserved to die,” Erik clicked his tongue, “I mean, there are giants and anarchists running around.”

“Erik, that’s horrible,” Evelyn chastised as they rode back to their main camp in the Emerald Graves.

“I’m serious,” he defended himself, “You read that last letter. They know this shit makes you go insane but they’re selling it anyways. Fuck these guys. The world is better off without them. We’re weeding out the stupid people _and_ the evil people at the same time.”

She wanted to make an argument, but his point was valid. Everyone in Thedas had heard of red lyrium by that point. They knew to stay away from it or to try and destroy it if they could. Yet the smugglers they’d just killed turned a blind eye and decided to sell it to a sketchy ‘Templar-type’ for quick coin.

“Erik’s right. If these men had any sense or morality at all they’d have stayed as far away from this entire thing entirely,” Blackwall pointed out.

“I know,” Evelyn sighed, “It’s just frustrating we have to do this at all.”

“There’s always someone that makes the world a shittier place,” Erik said quietly, “That’s why people like me and Bull will never be out of a job.”

They rode on without making another sound. Once they resupplied and rested for the night, they moved on back to Skyhold.

**18 Drakonis, 9:41 Dragon**

She met with Cullen about the results of the intelligence a week after they returned to the fortress. Cullen was in his usual position, standing behind his desk and staring at some letter of another with his fists pressed against the wood.

“The smugglers we interrogated, in junction with those we interrogated, gave us the Red Templars’ main source of red lyrium,” Cullen smirked, “It’s located in the Dales, near a town called Sahrnia. Destroying the mines there will cripple Samson’s operations.”

Evelyn gave him a warm smile. “Excellent work, Commander. I’ll head out to investigate the mine.”

Cullen merely frowned in rage. “Destroying the mines will be a loss Samson won’t soon forget.”

Evelyn fell silent for a very long moment and studied Cullen. He was still pale, though it seemed to be his natural pallor. His eyes, too, were more focused and less wild, and he seemed stronger than he had in weeks.

“How are you feeling? I know that it was bad for a while,” she asked softly, slowly approaching him.

“Much better, to be quite honest,” he admitted, “Though it was awful for a few weeks. I’ve been playing catch-up with work ever since.”

“Is it always that bad?” she pressed, worried to the core about him.

He shook his head. “The pain comes and goes… sometimes I feel as if I’m back there,” his voice grew quiet and his eyes unfocused, “I should not have pushed myself so far that day.” She smiled and rubbed his arm through the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“I am,” he gave a soft smile before his face darkened.

“I never told anyone what happened at Ferelden’s Circle. I was…” he paused in thought and shrugged weakly, “Not myself after that. I was angry. For _years_ that anger blinded me. I’m not proud of the man that made me. The way I saw mages, I’m not sure I would have cared about you. The thought of that sickens me.”

He took a deep breath and looked out his window. “Now I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It’s a start.”

Evelyn approached slowly and wrapped her arms around him gently, leaning the crown of her head into his shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, I… like who you are now,” she said, nearly choosing the wrong words for how she felt about him.

He turned in her embrace and locked eyes with her, his face filled with worry and fear that wouldn’t be washed away.

“Even after…?”

She sighed, thinking about what sins he may have committed against people like her in the past. They may have been egregious. He may have been guilty of complacency as others committed the sins, while he kept his hatred to himself. But none of that mattered now. He was a different man, just as Erik had told her. And she liked the man he was now.

She leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. “Cullen, I care about you. Deeply. You’ve done nothing to change that.”

He gave her a warm smile filled with relief and relaxed visibly. Then he gave her an odd look.

“I doubt anyone’s asked, since you’re constantly aiding others, but… what about you? You have troubles of your own. How are you holding up through all this?”

She bit her lip in worry, and a hint of fear crept into the back of her mind. No one had asked her that, he was right. That he even had the care to ask was heartwarming to her. She figured he deserved the truth.

“Honestly? I’m terrified,” she admitted, “So many people depend on us – on _me_ – Corypheus is still out there. And even with Erik’s reassurance, I’m still afraid I’ll fail.”

He grabbed her hands in his and gently wrapped his fingers around hers. Her heart began to beat slightly faster and she noticed that his hands absolutely dwarfed hers.

“We’ve made great strides. Do not doubt yourself, or the Inquisition, just yet,” he reassured her, “If there’s anything I can do, you have only to ask.”

She felt as though her heart melted into her stomach and she gave him a genuine smile. Perhaps she’d used the wrong words to describe how she felt about him earlier.

“You’re already doing more than enough, Cullen,” she said as she embraced him once more and leaned her head against his broad chest.

**27 Drakonis, 9:41 Dragon**

Erik approached her with a stack of papers after they cleared the last mine. She was cold and exhausted, and sick of playing Inquisitor. She looked at the papers with disgust and leaned on her staff.

“What crimes against the world has Samson committed now?” she asked in an exhausted tone.

“Nothing that we don’t already know,” Erik said as she took the papers from him, “This was his main lyrium source for his Red Templars, and he was kidnapping people and using them to mine it until they became red lyrium themselves. But there’s more. Mistress Poulin, the woman in charge of Sahrnia? She sold her people to the Red Templars.”

Her eyes snapped up from the papers. “ _What?_ Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

Erik held up his hands. “I legitimately forgot. I don’t have a perfect memory. I do tend to forget things from time to time.”

Evelyn growled and read through the papers. Erik was right. The woman really _was_ selling her people to the Red Templars. It was absolutely horrifying. She mentally cursed and her fingers involuntarily tightened around the parchment, crinkling the edges. It was getting ridiculous. First the Crestwood Mayor, and now this Mistress Poulin. Did no one in Thedas have a pure heart anymore? Was everyone simply out for their own self-interest and ambition, regardless of the impact it had on others?

“Getting old, are we?” Dorian asked, attempting to mask his disgust at the situation with humor.

Erik gave his friend an odd look. “You try getting blown up four times, dude. It’ll do funny things to your head.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “That sounds like an excuse for getting old. You should propose to Leliana and make a little one soon. Maker knows you’re on a time crunch; who knows when your old age will take your virility?”

“Dorian, now is not the time,” Evelyn said through gritted teeth, “Erik, when we get back to Suledin Keep, have a warrant for Mistress Poulin’s arrest put out. I need to send these papers to Cullen.”

**3 Cloudreach, 9:41 Dragon**

"I have been reading the letters found in the Quarry,” Cullen greeted her in shock upon her return, “Samson is making red lyrium from people?"

She shook her head, a chill running down her spine at the thought. "Not anymore. Not in that mine."

Cullen began to pace. "I knew Samson had fallen, but this? It's monstrous. We have to put an end to him," he walked over to the desk and handed her a piece of parchment, "Look at these orders from the encampment. That armor must give Samson extraordinary power. We may not be able to stop him."

"Samson's a menace. If we can't defeat him, no one stands a chance," Evelyn sighed, her mind racing as she thought of what they could do.

"Then we must destroy the armor,” Cullen declared as he drummed his fingers on the wood of the table, "I couldn't say how. Templars are trained not to destroy expensive magical equipment. Perhaps Dagna has some ideas? She crafts the impossible every day."

Evelyn lit up and felt a smile creep across her lips. She turned and sped out of his office, heading toward the Undercroft.

“Dagna,” she called as soon as she entered. The chipper dwarf popped her head up from some masterwork or another and made her way over to Evelyn.

“Inquisitor,” she greeted in her usual cheerful manner, “What can I do for you?”

"What have you learned of Samson?" she asked in a hopeful manner.

"He should be dead," Dagna explained, almost seeming to expect the line of questioning, “I mean, you could make a hat out of red lyrium and kill people, especially the wearer. Samson's armor, it's genius. To do all this and not go insane, it must be resistant. Or he is insane. Or both."

"So in addition to killing others, it's slowly consuming him, too?" Evelyn conjectured.

"Yes But slow is not fast,” she shrugged “Doesn't matter, I can find a way to hurt him. I just need time and red lyrium. For tests."

"Erik collected some red lyrium while we were hunting the smugglers in the Emerald Graves. It’s in a sealed crate over there,” she informed Dagna, pointing to the box in question, “But experimenting with red lyrium? Is that wise?"

"Everything is safe if handled properly. And you don't touch it long. Or breathe it. I mentioned the hat, right? No hat," Dagna shook a finger at her as she moved toward the crate, "Time and resources, Inquisitor. I'll get you what you want. Now shoo. I've work to do."

  
**4 Cloudreach, 9:41 Dragon**

"No red lyrium, no allies, and soon Samson will have no armor. I hope," Cullen listed as he stared at the war table, halfway through a meeting.

Josephine squinted at him in suspicion. "You hope?"

"Dagna's started work on her red lyrium samples, but she needs more details on the armor," he explained as he handed Josephine a paper, "We found orders in the mine. They mention Maddox. A name I did not expect to hear."

Leliana spoke up. “I read Samson’s letter. It said something about ‘taking over as the Vessel’.”

“Perhaps it’s a rank among the Red Templars,” Cullen postulated, “It could be a title from Ancient Tevinter. Or it’s some other role Corypheus has planned for Samson, and Maddox is part of it.”

“It’s none of them,” Erik sighed as he tapped one of the diplomacy map markers on the hardened wood.

“You know what this ‘Vessel’ is then?” Josephine asked, turning toward Erik.

“It’s extremely dangerous,” Erik said grimly, “Corypheus plans to use Samson as a vessel for… something extremely ancient and extremely powerful that would inevitably backfire on both him and all of us.”

“And I assume you won’t tell us what this extremely dangerous thing is?” Evelyn questioned tiredly.

“Nope. All I’ll say is that we can’t let him become the Vessel. You’ll find out the rest before the end of all this.”

"Right then,” Evelyn shrugged worriedly before turning back to Cullen, “Back to Maddox. Another voice from your past?"

"In a way. This is complicated,” he said as he leaned against the War Table, “Maddox was a mage in Kirkwall's Circle. Samson smuggled letters between him and his sweetheart. Eventually, Samson was caught – that's why he was cast out of the Order. Maddox was made Tranquil and became a skilled craftsman of magical items. Samson must have… rescued him."

Evelyn gaped at the Commander in utter shock. "I can't believe they made a man Tranquil over a few love letters."

"The official charge was 'corrupting the moral integrity of a Templar.' Knight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offenses, believe me," he explained in a grim tone.

"Why would Maddox need saving?" Leliana pressed, her mind clearly at work.

"When the mages rebelled in Kirkwall, the worst battles took place at the Gallows, in the Circle itself. I thought Maddox had died in the fighting or was eking out a living in the streets,” Cullen grimaced, “A hard fate for a Tranquil in Kirkwall. Samson must have found him. Taken him in."

"Perhaps there's something left of the man Samson used to be," Evelyn suggested with hope.

Cullen shook his head. "Or he's shrewd enough to know an extraordinary resource. It seems Maddox built Samson's armor for him, and maintains it still,” he picked up a military marker and looked Evelyn in the eye, “Tranquil in Kirkwall needed rare and expensive supplies for their enchantments – supplies we can trace. I can have our men kick down some doors, Inquisitor. Samson's armor might lead us right to his stronghold."

Evelyn nodded and Cullen placed his marker on the map.

  
  
**11 Cloudreach, 9:41 Dragon**

A week later, a knock came at Evelyn’s door before dawn as she was finishing paperwork that involved the alliance with Orlais and the peace treaty between Nevarra and Tevinter. She looked up for a moment and placed her quill back in the inkwell.

“Enter,” she called. The door opened, and Cullen rushed up the stairs. He had an excited but worried look on his face.

"We have him, Inquisitor!" Cullen declared almost breathlessly, "We've found Samson's lair. My duties usually keep me here, but for Samson? I'll make an exception."

Evelyn’s heart did a confused dance in her chest. On the one hand, the thought of being able to fight at Cullen’s side was thrilling. But on the other…

"Samson still has that red lyrium armor," she pointed out with worry as she stood from her desk and moved toward him

"All the more reason for me to go. I would..." he paused, fidgeting with his hands slightly, “Sleep better if I knew I would be at your side."

She felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of his worry and planted a kiss on the scar just above his lip.

"Alright,” she acquiesced, “We'll leave in the morning."

Cullen shook his head. “That’s not the only reason I came up here, Evelyn,” he said grimly, “We have another problem that needs immediate attention.”

* * *

“Erik, wake up.”

A kick at the foot of the bed jolted both himself and Leliana awake; Leliana drew a dagger from between the bed frame and mattress, and Erik began to lunge for his rifle. Fudge let out a small squeak at the abrupt chaos from her small pillow by the head of Leliana’s side of the bed. They both froze when they realized it was Evelyn. Leliana covered herself slightly as Erik slipped back into bed. It was still dark outside, and it was at least two hours before dawn, but as he drew himself from his drowsiness, he heard commotion outside. Far more than normal for even a busy midday. The clanking of metal, the shouting of men and women giving and receiving orders, and more than one horse whinnying. He even heard Bull barking orders to the Chargers. Even without seeing the courtyard, he could tell Skyhold was wide awake and moving with frantic haste. Erik looked at Leliana in confusion before they both glanced back toward Evelyn.

“Inquisitor?” Leliana began carefully, “Why did you wake us? Could it not wait until the noon meeting?”

Evelyn shook her head. “I just spoke with Cullen; Howe rode in an hour ago. By his last estimate, the Warden ritual will begin in two months, and it will take six weeks to march our forces to the Western Approach.”

Erik froze, realizing what the news meant. “Oh, shit.”

“We march with our army to the Western Approach,” Evelyn said with finality, “ _Tonight_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Silence in the Snow by Trivium - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZT8mLnVDuQ
> 
> In case you don't know, the word kvlt is a meme in the metal community, specifically regarding the aesthetic around black metal. It's a joke, archaic spelling of kult or cult, and black metal bands typically wear corpse paint during live shows, hence Erik's use of the term.


	41. Battle Hymn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition marches to the Western Approach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bioware/EA own Dragon Age, this is a transformative work blah blah you know the drill by now.

Erik was moving as quickly as he humanly could. He’d loaded up literally all his rounds – including the ones Dagna had produced for him, both his blades, had cleaned his rifle _twice_ , and finished the papers he’d been working on for several weeks. His armor had been prepared and donned, the scales and plates glistening a lavender color in their freshly polished shape. He’d prepared some food for himself and several others that he knew would forget it and had fed and saddled Isaac, his horse, before handing it off to Dennet to be cared for with the rest of the Inner Circle’s mounts. He’d helped Josephine and Leliana write quick missives to their allies on both sides of the Frostbacks and prepared the marching order with Cullen, who needed an extra hand with Rylen already forward-deployed at Griffon Wing Keep. He’d even participated in a handful of Andrastian prayers with some of the soldiers, and he was slightly surprised to find Herah among the ranks of the men and women gathered in the garden to be blessed by Mother Giselle.

But there were still two things left for him to do.

He strode with false confidence into the Undercroft, where Dagna was hectically finishing so many different things at once that he couldn’t even keep up. She glanced up at him and nodded before dropping her head back down to whatever project she was working on, which looked to be the frame for the red lyrium rune that would one day destroy Samson’s armor.

“The box and its pendant by the potions desk,” the paragon-deserving dwarf informed him, “You’re lucky. It took me almost a week to find a mage that was willing to do just a tiny blood magic ritual. Your blood almost congealed while I was looking for one.”

“Once again, you’re the fucking best, Dagna,” Erik said as he bounded quickly over to his requisition. He grabbed the box and pendant and looked at it. It was a simple, six-inch deep silverite and dragon bone box with an engraving of the Inquisition sword and eye on the top. There was no lock, with a small rune sitting where the lock would be. The pendant sat inside, filled with a few drops of his blood, and etched with markings all over the tiny crystal. He grabbed the leather thong and threw it around his neck, tucking it between his plate chestpiece and his padded undershirt.

“Remember, once you close that box, it won’t open unless you die,” Dagna informed him, “And I laced the inside of the box with exploding runes, so whoever tries to break it open will blow themselves and whatever you put inside it completely apart.

“You really thought of everything,” Erik murmured as he inspected the metalworking.

“So did you, evidently,” she returned, “Do you really plan on dying at this battle?”

“No,” Erik replied somberly, “But I need to be prepared for every possibility and every inevitably imaginable. It was my job before I started my new life here, and it’s still my job now. And it will be until the day I die.

He had one final thing to do, and he decided it couldn’t wait until they stepped off. He looked at the sky and then at the sundial Evelyn had installed in the courtyard. It was four in the afternoon. He still had about an hour and a half before his sunset time hack and he marched to war – true war – once again. So he climbed the rotunda and found Leliana at her workstation. She glanced up at his approach, her face an impassive mask as she worked through dozens of papers that needed filing and sending before sunset.

“Erik. Everything in order?” she asked calmly, her face holding no sign of worry.

“Almost,” he said as he came what some would consider uncomfortably close to the Spymaster.

“What else do you need to complete?” she asked, her mask slipping ever so slightly and showing the loving worry in her eyes.

“Just this,” he breathed before grabbing the back of her neck and placing a hard, passionate kiss on her lips, through which he tried to communicate all his love and affection for the woman before him.

They only retreated from one another when they were out of breath, and when he opened his eyes, Leliana’s mask had slipped off entirely.

“I just want to look at you,” Erik explained, his voice cracking, “This may be the last time I can.”

She shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. “Please, don’t say that.”

“We both need to face it, Leliana,” he murmured in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper, “Adamant is going to be absolutely brutal. This isn’t a game or a story anymore. This is reality. I’m going to fight for my life over there, but I might die. Evelyn might die. Cullen might die. No one is safe in combat, you know that. I’m going to do everything I can to survive, but my luck may run out.”

Her eyes became watery and she momentarily tried to turn away from him. Erik grabbed her wrist gently and she turned back toward him. He wiped the tears from her cheeks and studied her face for as long as he could. He studied the blue of her eyes, how there were specks of green in the sky blue tint. Her nose, how it fit the shape of her face perfectly. The small lines around her mouth, too, and how they seemed to be the only sign of age on her face. He forced himself to remember the color of the rose tint on her cheeks and the shape of her brows.

After moments of silence, Erik finally spoke again.

“I had Dagna make a box for me. It’s connected to this pendant,” he showed her the necklace and her eyes went wide momentarily, “Yes, it’s blood magic, don’t worry about it. If I die, the box will unlock. I’m putting my last will and testament in there, and there’ll be a few pieces of paper regarding the things that are important in the next few years. There’s also going to be a handful of things about the nature of the world. Don’t open them until Corypheus is defeated. I’ll list who can read each of the letters.”

“And what if I try and break it open?” she asked, clearly prying information out of him.

“The box will explode and kill you,” Erik said grimly. He grew a smile, “So please don’t do that. I want to come back to see the woman I love alive and in one piece.”

She studied him for a moment, then bit her lip and closed her eyes. She gave a subtle nod.

“Alright.”

“Good,” he said. The bell began to ring, and Erik turned his head toward the sound.

“I have to go,” he told her, “We’re forming up for the march.”

“Please come back to me,” she whispered, a hint of begging in her voice, “I love you.”

He gave her one final kiss. “I will,” he promised her, “I love you, too.”

Erik made his way to their rooms and carefully placed each and every piece of parchment he’d written on in the box. He grabbed the last one before it went in with the rest of its ilk and looked at the wax seal on it. Evelyn had deigned to make a seal for him in case he ever needed to send any formal messages, and he’d never used it prior. It was a simple set of crossed arrows, the insignia of the Special Forces branch of the US Army. The wax she’d chosen, too, was the same shade of green as his beret. He smiled at her thoughtfulness and turned the sealed parchment over, reading his handwriting.

_The Last Will and Testament of Erik Baldr Andersen of Thedas._

He placed the letter in the box and gently closed the lid. The rune on the front flashed brightly once, and the box sealed. He took a deep, shaky breath and prayed to the Maker that it would never open.

Erik mounted his horse and took his place next to Evelyn, with Bull and his Chargers on his side and Herah and her Hunters (as she decided to call her company) on Evelyn’s. The rest of the Inner Circle was behind him and Evelyn. Cullen took his place between the two of them and gave them both a look.

“The rest of the army is formed up in the valley,” he informed them, “I assume you made all the preparations you needed?”

Erik merely nodded and turned around. He could see Leliana and Josephine on the battlements overlooking the bridge. He planted his lips on his fingers and raised them toward the Orlesian in a final goodbye. He turned around and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Erik? Are you alright?” Evelyn asked. He turned toward his sister and nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her, “It’s just tough.”

She gave him a sorrowful look. “I know. But we’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” he murmured, not loud enough for her to hear.

“Alright,” Cullen huffed, straightening himself in his saddle, “Let’s go to war.”

They went down the lift in small groups and met up once their rather large group was all off the walkway. Together they rode in silence, their backs straight and their heads held proudly as they rode slowly through New Haven. The entire population lined the streets, watching in revered silence as they marched slowly through the city. Eventually, they came to the military base, where an army six thousand strong stood in loose formation, talking amongst themselves; they snapped to attention and fell silent the instant they saw the Inquisitor and the Commander arrive. Cullen rode out from their group and inspected the ranks briefly, then gave nods to their commanding officers. The officers began to bark orders and the soldiers prepared their weapons and their persons. The Commander cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“Inquisition!” he shouted, his voice booming through the valley, “March!”

They rode out in front with the Inner Circle, the Chargers, and the Hunters, and the rest of the army fell in behind them. Erik let himself have a small smile as he listened to the sound of ten thousand soldiers marching behind them. It was unlike anything he had heard before; a rhythmic pounding of feet and clanking of armor that echoed off the buildings and mountains that surrounded them.

They rode in silence, the cacophonous pounding of boots and rhythmic clanking of armor and shields the only sound as they rode out of the valley. And once they were out of the valley, the sound did not stop, nor would it until it was replaced by a far worse, much more violent sound, one that would scar every man and woman marching to the desert with them.

“We need to secure the battlements before our forces can move deeper into the fortress,” Cullen was saying as he, Erik, Howe, Hawke, and Evelyn looked over the map of Adamant Fortress, “If we don’t, archers and mages can rain fury down on us and crush us before we can even get a foothold.”

“So we’ll barrage them with the trebuchets before we have our guys scale the walls,” Erik suggested, “Dagna designed an explosive projectile-based on the gaatlok formula I provided. We could use those.”

“How do we time the explosives? It’s not like they blow on impact,” Evelyn pointed out.

“True, but we cut a sizable amount of wicks a couple of months ago,” Cullen informed her, “We have them set every hundred meters out to three hundred meters.”

A thought popped into Erik’s mind.

“Are they ninety kilogram projectiles?” Erik asked with a grin, “Can we launch them over three hundred meters?”

“Uh… yes, and yes,” Cullen replied in a skeptical tone, “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” Erik giggled, “It was a joke back on Earth. I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re an idiot,” Evelyn shoved him playfully.

“I have never denied that accusation.”

“Right,” Hawke sighed tiredly, “First of all, Erik, that was a shitty joke. Secondly, back to the matter at hand; we have explosive projectiles. But we don’t know our enemy’s number or how many demons they’ve summoned.”

“I conducted some reconnaissance,” Howe informed them, “The Orlesian Wardens number about sixteen hundred. About half of those are mages. Each of them has summoned anywhere from one to three demons apiece.”

“Half the Orlesian Wardens are mages?” Hawke balked, “How do they have so many?”

“Because they got out of the Circle,” Evelyn explained with a frown, “I saw it all the time. The Chantry ignores mages if they join the Wardens, so many people in the Circles volunteered for the Order as an escape.”

“That makes sense,” Hawke shrugged, “So we’re dealing with, what, eight, nine hundred mages? Nine hundred blades and bows, and anywhere from nine hundred to almost three thousand demons?”

“That sounds right,” Howe nodded in confirmation.

“We have the advantage of numbers, then,” Erik crossed his arms and shifted his weight as he studied the map of the fortress, “Six thousand against forty-six hundred, max. And that’s before the Warden warriors get sacrificed to summon the demons.”

“Half of our soldiers are green” Cullen grunted in frustration, “They haven’t seen much combat, if at all. Only a handful have been in true battles. And not many of the more experienced ones have fought demons. We’ve been ordering them to mark rifts and keep away from them until the Inquisitor can close them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Erik shrugged, “Every person has a killer inside them. Absolute violence surrounding them brings it out. They’ll fight. I have every faith in them.’

“Have you ever been in a true battle, Erik?” Evelyn asked, “Something on this scale? Your combat seemed more… asymmetrical.” Erik nodded, forcing the flashbacks out of his mind.

“Battle of Mosul, 2017,” he said emotionlessly, “We did some serious work there.”

“What happened there? What was the reason for the battle?” Cullen asked. Erik could tell he was trying to pry experience out of him to compare Mosul to what they were about to do.

“First of all, it wasn’t a fortress we were attacking,” Erik explained, “It was a city, one of the oldest in the world. A group called ISIS or the Islamic State rolled into the region and began taking over. They were fundamental religious extremists, trying to conquer the region and forcefully convert everyone to their version of Islam. Their ultimate goal was to conquer the region and then attempt to conquer the world.”

“I assume they were stopped,” Hawke drawled.

“Yep. We dropped the fucking hammer on those assholes,” he sighed, “Genocide, rape, slavery, violent rule… they were the worst Earth had to offer. Anyways, they conquered the city of Mosul, and a cross-country force went in to stop them. The battle lasted for… eight months? No, nine. The city was pretty much destroyed. Fifty billion dollars worth of damage. Imagine fifty billion gold pieces worth of damage. Anywhere from twenty to forty thousand killed. It was brutal.”

“What was the tactic used?” Cullen asked.

“The city was surrounded,” Erik shrugged, “Then we moved in and started killing anyone with a weapon that was wearing black or shot at us. We bombed the absolute shit out of that city. They did, too. Entire city blocks were leveled to get rid of pockets of ISIS fighters. We fought alongside the Peshmerga, clearing out pockets of fighters and hunting two or three high-value targets toward the end of the battle, in February through May of 2017 Our tactic was overwhelming force to the point of shock and awe. Collateral damage seemed to be a secondary thought.”

Cullen frowned in thought. “We can’t use that tactic here… but we might be able to use the Chargers and a company of sappers to breach the side walls of the fortress with gaatlok. It’ll give us more entrances to feed our soldiers into the fortress.”

“And once we get a foothold in the fortress?” Evelyn asked.

“Fight like hell and carve a path for you to get to Warden-Commander Clarel and Lord Erimond so you can stop the ritual,” Howe said determinedly, “That’s the only way this battle is going to end.”

“Erik, is there anything you want to add that you know?” Evelyn asked.

He leaned against the table and frowned. “Not all the Wardens agree with what’s happening. You can convince some of them to stop fighting the Inquisition. You may even be able to convince Clarel to stop the ritual.”

“Anything else?”

“Something horrible will happen,” Erik sighed, thinking of the trip to the raw Fade, “But I can’t say what will happen. If I explain it, you may hesitate when the time comes, and hesitation means death.”

Evelyn sighed. “Right. Well, then. It seems we have a preliminary battle plan. We’ll refine it as we get closer to Adamant.”

They were a week and a half out from the fortress. Erik was eating venison silently near a campfire with Bull, Dorian, Cassandra, Varric, Hawke, Isabela, and a platoon of Inquisition soldiers that he didn’t know, keeping his mind blank and his body calm.

“Hey, Erik,” Bull said suddenly as he drank from his tankard, “You’re from a different world.”

“We’ve established that, yes,” he nodded.

“So you’ve got to have dozens of stories and songs that no one in Thedas have heard.”

“Yep.”

“Well, sing us a song,” Bull requested, walking over to him and handing him a cithern, “One of the soldiers here is from Rivain. She said you could play this if you sing us a song from Earth.”

Erik looked around the campfire and found the woman in question. She smiled and nodded at him as she ate her stew, and as he looked around, the rest of the soldiers seemed hopeful, as well. But he could see the nervousness in their eyes, which only worsened each day they came closer to Adamant.

“A song would help morale,” Cassandra suggested, “And we have not heard much of the music of Earth.”

“I just want to hear him play that thing,” Varric chuckled, “I didn’t even know he was a musician.”

Erik figured Cassandra was right. A little morale boost wouldn’t hurt. He took the instrument and studied it. Six strings, twenty frets. The body was shaped differently from a guitar as he knew it or the one he owned back at Skyhold, but it was close enough to a guitar that he could play it. He tuned the instrument by ear and strummed it once or twice.

“What do you want to hear?” he asked as he adjusted himself on the stool he sat on.

“Something about battle,” Bull gave Erik a grin.

He thought for only a moment before the perfect song came to mind. He played the opening arpeggio and the commotion around them fell silent. He could see others gathering outside their rather large circle, their eyes fixed on him. Erik ignored them and let his mind focus on the instrument and the song.

The arpeggio finished, and he pounded his fist against the body of the instrument. Then his open palm. He tried his best to replicate the opening drum fill of the song as best he could.

He struck the next chord, and he could almost feel magic in the air. As he played he thought about the vocals. He could sing, true, but he hadn’t in quite some time. He wondered if he could hit the notes. He would try regardless, he knew.

“By moonlight, we ride,

Ten thousand side by side.  
With swords drawn, held high,  
Our whips and armor shine.  
Hail to thee, our infantry,  
Still brave beyond the grave.  
All have sworn the eternal vow,  
The time to strike is now.”

Erik glanced up to the stars as he broke into the simple but effective chorus, his voice rasping as he brought the notes higher.

“Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill!”

He looked around and noticed an even greater number of soldiers had gathered. He could see Cullen and Evelyn just on the edge of the firelight, watching him with odd expressions. He went into the second verse.

“Gone are the days when freedom shone,  
Now blood and steel meet bone.  
In the light of the battle's wake,  
The sands of time will shake.  
How proud a soldier stand,  
With mace and chain in hand.  
Sound the charge into glory ride,  
Over the top of the vanquished pride.”

Erik let himself smile as the second chorus broke from his throat.

“Victory! Victory!

Victory! Victory!”

The soldiers began repeating the words of the simple chorus, filling the air with voices that rang into the moonlit night. He knew the crowd was larger than those standing around him; spirits were watching from beyond the Veil. How he knew, he couldn’t say.

“Victory! Victory!

Victory! Victory!”

He brought the energy down briefly, playing a simple progression. His voice, too, was pulled back, its power being traded for beauty.

“To the battle, we ride we crossed a starlit sky.  
No space no time we'll catch the wind.  
Strange losses, men died we crossed a starlit sky.  
And still, no space and time we'll catch the wind.”

He drummed his fingers on the body of the instrument once more, building tension. Then he let out out a scream. He broke into frenzied playing, losing himself in the playing. His fingers flew across the frets, his memory drawing the music to life as he played the song’s solo like he used to. Before he started his new life. Before his depression and his alcoholism. When he was happy. And he was happy once more.

“Kill! Kill!  
Kill! Kill!  
Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill!”

He built tension once more and took a deep breath, ignoring the countless faces around him and the spirits watching in the Fade. He pushed his voice almost as high as it could reach and filled it with power and passion.  
“Sound the charge! Into glory _ride!_

Over the top of their vanquished pride!”

He brought his pitch down slightly but kept the energy in his words.  
“By moonlight, we ride!  
Ten thousand side by side!”

By the final chorus, every man and woman around him chanted along, bringing a wide grin to Erik’s lips.

“Kill! Kill!  
Kill! Kill!  
Kill! Kill!

Kill! Kill!”

The voices were cacophonous, a chant of hope and of war and strength and unbreakable spirit. He played the final notes and sand the final, wordless notes of the song, then struck the strings with power and passion one last time. Silence followed for one moment, then another, then a third.

Then applause and cheers.

Erik stood and bowed exaggeratedly before returning the instrument to the Rivaini soldier with a thank you and a smile. The nervousness and fear in her eyes were gone, replace with hope and determination. The rest of the soldiers around them mirrored the woman as Erik stood and strode toward Evelyn and Cullen. The three of them entered the command tent wordlessly.

“Thank you,” Cullen said graciously, “The soldiers are betting nervous as we approach Adamant. I believe that helped to assuage their fear.”

“I hope it helped,” Erik shrugged, “Fear is poison in combat. It infects one, then affects the rest. It needs to be remedied with an antidote. Camaraderie always seemed to help back home. And everyone can chant a simple chorus.”

“What was that song even about?” Evelyn asked, an eyebrow raised.

Erik shrugged. “It’s about killing shit in a battle and gaining glory and victory for yourself and the world. It’s about being strong.”

They had arrived. There, in the distance, they could see the light of torches and magelight on the battlements. It was night, with the sun setting about two hours prior. Twilight had come and gone, and the moons were rising over the horizon. The Inquisition’s forces stood straight and ready, facing toward the fortress on the other side of the rise. Evelyn, Cullen, and Erik climbed the small bluff and stood upon a boulder. Evelyn was the first to speak.

“Inquisition!” she began, “Tonight, we embark on a path of blood and battle. Tonight, we march to rescue Thedas’s greatest heroes from the clutches of a Magister Sidereal who wishes to conquer our world, to destroy everything we hold dear! His treachery knows no bounds; he has ensnared the Grey Wardens in a trap to destroy our greatest and only defense against the Blight. Against creatures like him that have only treachery and death in their hearts. Each and every one of you has answered the call to stand fast against darkness, and tonight, we ask you to fight back against darkness. To save the Grey Wardens and foil Corypheus’s plans of domination! And I know, in my heart of hearts, we will triumph!”

A cheer rang throughout the Western Approach, six thousand men and women from throughout the world each prepared to fight and die for peace. As the cheer died, Cullen was the next to speak.

“Your commanding officers have their orders. They have passed your missions down to you. I look at this force, and I see discipline, strength, and bravery. Your training has prepared you, and tonight, I ask that you call upon your training to drive us to victory. I know you will succeed; I have seen the determination in each and every one of you. I have seen the strength in your sword arms, the love you hold for the soldiers to your left and right. I am proud of that, and I am honored beyond words to be the Commander of the greatest force in Thedas. Do not falter this night, for we will drive on to victory!”

Another cheer rang through the army. As it died, Erik stepped up to the edge of the bluff and cleared his throat. He thought about what he should say to the soldiers before him, and what he would want to hear. And he knew he would want to hear the truth.

“Tonight, Corypheus and his minions plan to summon a demon of fear,” he boomed, “It is as powerful as it is ancient. It is the nightmare you forget upon waking. It has plagued countless minds throughout the ages, and now Corypheus plans to use it to cause harm and death and untold fear to the world.”

A murmur of uncertainty flowed through the army. Cullen gave him an uncertain look, but Erik ignored him and continued.

“But we will triumph. I know it as much as I know the moons will rise, or that the stars will remain. Fear is powerless in the face of courage, and as I look upon you all, I see courage. I see honor and bravery. On Earth, we had a litany against fear. We knew it was powerless as long as we faced it and pushed forward. Remember these words, and repeat them now.

“I must not fear.” The army repeated it, now quite as loudly as Erik expected.

“Fear is the mind-killer.” They repeated, a little louder. He heard Cullen murmur it beside him, as did Evelyn.

“Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.” The army and his friends grew slightly louder.

“I will face my fear.” The Inquisition grew significantly louder as the litany began to give hope.

“I will permit it to pass over me and through me.” Louder, still, with reverence and fire.

“And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.” The sound was deafening now. Cullen grew louder still, as did the rest of the Inner Circle below them.

“Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.” It was a cheer now, swords and spears and axes and bows and staffs raised to the sky.

“Only I will remain." A final cheer, louder than a bomb, followed by the rhythmic chanting of the final line of the litany. Cullen turned to him with a smile.

“Well done,” he nodded to him. Erik shook his hand and turned back to the army.

“Rise, my friends!” he shouted, “March to war!”

They let out a battle cry as one and began to march toward the fortress. Cullen, Evelyn, Erik, and the rest of the Inner Circle led the slow march. Time seemed to dilate as they inched closer and closer and closer to the ancient structure. Bells began to ring in Adamant, and Erik could hear shouting. He grabbed his rifle from his back and loaded a magazine. Trebuchets began to move toward the front of the formation, and Erik could see the Chargers in the distance, moving on the eastern side of the fortress before they stopped in a secure position and waited. The sapper company, too, did the same on the western side, and held position, waiting for the right time to strike. Ladders began to be passed up the ranks, and Erik could hear the battering ram rumble toward them from behind. He could almost hear the silent, tense breaths of everyone around him, the slow and agonizingly tense march filling the desert air with unease. Evelyn and Cullen both looked pale as their eyes darted across the battlements of Adamant Fortress. Erik took a deep breath and cleared his mind, emptying himself of all emotion and feeling except restrained violence and aggression. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the army stopped in position. Together, six thousand blades and staffs stared at the ancient stronghold. Cullen straightened himself and drew his sword.

“Trebuchets!” he barked with confidence and authority, “Load!”

The soldiers manning the siege engines began to move quickly, loading explosive and flaming projectiles into the netting of the massive war machines.

“Lock!”

The hand cranks began to turn. Counterweights slowly raised under the tension of the machines, mirroring the tension in the night. The Inquisition forces watched each siege engine with uncertain and bated breath, and the air began to be stolen from their lungs.

“Loose!”

The trebuchets fired simultaneously, sending their projectiles into the sky. He could see the wicks on the gaatlok shells, sparking and flickering as the flaming and explosive rounds sailed to the fortress. The entire army seemed to stop breathing, and even the crickets seemed to stop chirping as the entire Western Approach watched the first strike in the Battle of Adamant Fortress.

Then the projectiles struck their targets. One of the flaming rounds landed in the middle of the stronghold, blowing a hole through the walls and sending flames everywhere. A gaatlok round crashed just into the corner of the wall and the battlement and detonated, launching chunks of rock, smoke, and people into the air with a sound that Erik imagined would be akin to the hammer of Thor. Another flaming stone lodged square in the chest of what appeared to be a pride demon, and it went down with an oddly humorous grunt as its arm was ripped from its body. He could hear the Wardens screaming and barking orders as the battlements became chaos.

“Trebuchets, reload and loose at will!” he ordered as he raised his sword and pointed the tip of the blade to Adamant.

“Inquisition! Forward!”

Erik shouldered his rifle and angled it at a low ready position, and together six thousand warriors marched forward to an event that would change the history of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Battle Hymn by Manowar - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EtNqj9g8HJE
> 
> Yes, I used Manowar. Yes, Erik sang Manowar. No, I don't care that their entire thing is extreme 80's masculinity. Manowar is fucking awesome, and Manowar is for all. This song kicks serious ass.
> 
> The Litany Against Fear Erik used is from Dune; it originated with the Bene Gesserit and I think it's a very powerful piece of writing, so I used it here.
> 
> Erik also briefly references The Pentagram Burns by Satyricon at the end of his speech - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MYyqytFNP4
> 
> Adamant will take at least three or four chapters. There will be one chapter from Evelyn's point of view, one from Erik's, and at least one, probably two for the Fade. There will be an aftermath chapter, as well.
> 
> Edit: I lied. Adamant is one, seven-and-a-half-thousand word chapter, and the Fade will be two chapters.


	42. Soldiers of the Wasteland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Adamant Fortress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said Adamant was going to be two chapters?
> 
> I lied. It flowed better and fit better as a larger chapter. Some events intentionally overlap here.
> 
> The Fade will be up later today. I just need to edit it. It's nearly 10k words lmao I'm tryna pare it down to 9k

Erik wasn’t quite sure why everyone was calling what they were doing a ‘siege’. It wasn’t long enough to be a siege; they didn’t have the time necessary to starve the Wardens out and break them with famine and disease and batteries of siege engine fire. That was why a giant metal ball filled with black powder was flying over his head and a fireball was soaring along behind it. It was impressive, really. Cullen had managed to make the assault kick off without a hitch. Of course, he knew Evelyn was going to take a field trip to the Raw Fade in a couple of hours, but that couldn’t be helped.

Two explosions rocked the sides of Adamant Fortress, one after the other. Erik smiled and adjusted his rifle’s sling.

“It seems that the Chargers and Lady Seryl’s sappers have done their job,” Cullen commented at Erik’s side. His gaze flicked to the two battalions of soldiers flooding toward the breaches.

“Good. Let’s move up, then,” Evelyn ordered from Cullen’s other side. Erik grunted acknowledgment and racked a round before adjusting his blades on his hips.

“Right,” the Commander nodded before turning to his army, “Inquisition! Forward! Battering ram to the front, shield wall on both sides.”

And so they marched forward. Erik stopped several times and dropped to one knee to take out archers on the walls, though the artillery was doing its job so well that he didn’t have to do much. The march, though it was paced smoothly, felt agonizingly slow. The familiar ache of anticipation before combat was jumping at him like a hungry dog. He embraced it. It was good to have a bit of anticipation before fighting if only to keep one’s senses sharp; Erik had found that mistakes were made when that anticipation was absent.

“Fighting through the fortress will be a grind,” Erik shouted over the growing din as they marched through, “Ev, you and your team need to move as quickly as you possibly can. If you can find a way to sow dissent and doubt in the Wardens, do it. But don’t stop for anything else. Get to that ritual chamber as fast as humanly possible.”

“Understood,” she yelled back, “What about the rest of you?”

“We’ll be cutting a path for you through the fortress,” Cullen explained, “Erik is right, you should make for the ritual chamber, but it looks like you may be needed on the battlements first. We can’t cut that path if the assaulting elements are too bogged down.”

“Are you sure fighting your way through is the wisest option?” Evelyn asked with apprehension.

“There’s no other way we can do it, Ev. This is going to be a fucking bloodbath,” Erik responded, “Besides, these are infantry. They’re supposed to fight through the meat grinder.”

“The men are trained for this,” the Fereldan agreed, “And with Erik’s close quarters tactics now widespread through our forces, we’ll have an easier time rooting out resistance.”

Their conversation was cut short by the booming of the battering ram against the front gates. It slammed against the reinforced doors once, then twice. The third time, something splintered, and Erik could hear metal creaking behind the gates. Each time the breachers slammed their instrument against the gates, the air filled with more and more tension. The battlefield seemed to quiet momentarily as the ram was drawn back one more time; he could almost hear the individual breaths and heartbeats of everyone around him as he brought his rifle up to the low ready.

Then the ram slammed into the door, and sound returned to the battlefield.

The doors swung inward, followed closely by Inquisition forces flooding into the fortress. Everywhere there were shouts and blood and death. Erik was briefly reminded of the landings at Normandy and the soldiers rushing the beachhead from their boats. Then he was pulled back to reality as he put a round into the head of a Warden that was rushing him, blade raised to thrust toward his chest. She dropped to the ground like a ragdoll while her sword and shield clattered to the stones. He stepped over her body and let instinct take over.

Wardens and demons were engaging their forces everywhere. Erik put two rounds into a shade shambling toward Cullen’s exposed back, then another into a Warden across the small courtyard. Fire and lightning cracked from Evelyn’s staff as she swung it with precise abandon, chaining spell after spell at her enemies. Erik switched to his blades and cut through a terror demon’s leg before driving his offhand, shorter sword through its grimly smiling skull. An Inquisition soldier fell next to him, his throat cut by the tip of a warrior’s sword, and he collapsed with a gurgle, spraying Erik with blood. The smell of death and shit and fear was everywhere, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Erik pushed through it on sheer adrenaline and will alone and shot three more demons bearing down on a dwarf that had been backed into the corner of the courtyard. Cullen bellowed something over the din, though Erik was focused on his own self-assigned tasks.

Then as soon as it had started, it was over. Dead from both sides lay everywhere, though it was clear more Wardens and demons were slain than Inquisition. He stood next to Evelyn, chest heaving with exertion. He loaded another magazine and thanked whatever god was out there that Dagna had managed to figure out modern bullets.

“Get the casualties back to the healers! If you aren’t carrying an injured buddy, consolidate with your units and push to your objectives,” Erik barked, even as soldiers around him were doing exactly as he ordered. He felt a swell of pride for Cullen at the professional, competent force Cullen had built. A large hand on his shoulder caused him to turn and find Herah Adaar looking down at him, her face covered in blood and her free hand holding her greatsword as though it were a mere longsword.

“Care to join me and my boys?” she offered with grim enthusiasm.

“Into the mouth of hell? Of course,” he joked back.

“I’m coming with,” Sera shouted, eyeing up Herah as she did so, “Never know when you need an extra arrow.”

Adaar gave the elf a smile. “I thought I was going to have to ask.”

He saw Cullen speaking with Evelyn some fifteen feet away, and he indicated to Herah to wait one minute.

“-have your way in. Let’s make use of it,” he was saying, “We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.”

“I’ll be fine. Just keep the men safe. And yourself,” Evelyn responded.

“We’ll do what we have to,” Cullen ambivalently offered, “Warden Howe will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. She’s assisting them until you arrive-”

A body was tossed from the battlements by an armored shade, just as Erik had seen back on Earth. Cullen grimaced.

“It’s as I feared. There’s too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders won’t be able to get a foothold,” he barked, “If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we’ll cover your advance.” He hefted his sword and shield and made to move toward Erik and Herah, where her company was accounted for and ready to fight.

Evelyn caught Cullen’s bracer and spun him back toward her. He looked at her for a brief moment in confusion before she yanked him down by his breastplate and planted a firm kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” she said warmly, almost seeming as though she didn’t know what she said. Erik’s mouth dropped in shock and his eyes went wide as saucers as his mind screeched to a halt.

“I love you, too,” he responded immediately and with melancholy, “We’ll see each other on the other side.” And then the Commander was next to them. Herah barked the order to move out, and the company broke off into their respective teams and began to move.

Erik hung back with Cullen and Herah and gave the other man a salacious grin.

“Holy shit, Cullen,” Erik laughed, “Feel ready now?”.

“After that? Absolutely,” he laughed in spite of the battle raging around them, “It’s nice to know I have someone to come back to.”

Erik had to agree.

He’d long lost count of how many rooms they’d cleared. Evelyn was probably finished with the battlements at this point and was on her way back down with the rest of the Inner Circle. Cullen had been pulled away almost an hour ago to some other part of the fortress by a runner, and they hadn’t seen the Commander since. He sighed wearily as he loaded his fourth magazine of his seven and released the bolt forward before stacking up with Herah, Lavellan, and a tiny but ferocious elven mage behind him. Herah moved around the stack and planted herself in front of the door before nodding once, twice, then three times to Erik. She planted her boot next to the lock and kicked the door in, turning and drawing her small crossbow to pull security as Erik flowed into the room. Erik button-hooked along the wall and dug the first corner, dropping a Warden mage. He heard Lavellan’s bow twanging behind him in the opposite direction, indicating he had felled another combatant, even as Erik put two more rounds into the demon the Warden mage had summoned. He felt, more than saw, their mage ally clear the fatal funnel before she chained a lightning spell between the two more combatants in the room. Erik moved along the wall and put three rounds into the nearer Warden as he convulsed while Lavellan put an arrow in the other’s throat, but it was pointless; the chain lightning had killed both the combatants.

“Dead space!” Erik called, moving to clear behind the thick mahogany desk near the back of the room. The elven mage moved along the wall to secure his position as he moved swiftly to the desk. He checked behind it and notified the rest of the team that it was clear before moving to the center of the room and dropping to a knee.

“Up,” Erik called as he rested his weapon on his knee.

“Up,” Lavellan called, his sector covered by the arrow nocked in his bow.

“Up,” the mage squeaked as her eyes fixed on her corner.

“Up,” Herah boomed through the doorframe. Lavellan moved to pull Erik up to his feet, giving the offworlder a pat on the shoulder before they moved back out to the hallway and marked the stone arch with chalk to indicate the room had been cleared. He dropped back with Herah and they rolled forward along the walls, two other teams coming out of other rooms in a similar fashion.

“Your guys are fucking good,” he complimented Herah in a low voice. She suppressed a smile.

“They are. I’m proud of them,” she said in an even tone, pride and validation simmering just underneath.

“And you have every right to be. These guys would give a Ranger company a run for their money back in my world, and clearing buildings is all they do.”

“Well, let’s just make it through the night and then see if you think the same,” Herah responded. Erik was about to respond when a commotion came from the last uncleared room in the corridor.

“-the fuck down on the ground! Hands where I can see them!” someone shouted, followed by a man grunting loudly and a ‘mother _fucker_ ’. Erik gave Herah a look and they trotted toward the room.

“Room clear,” a woman called from within the chamber, and Erik moved through the doorframe.

“Wolves,” he quickly called out to indicate he was friendly, “What do you got for us?”

The  Qunari man with  his knee on the Grey Warden’s back finished binding the man’s hands before yanking him upward by the backplate so he could see.

“We’ve got the Constable, Champion,”  he almost laughed. Erik’ s eyes ran over the rogue armor adorned by the dazed and barely conscious man and he realized the horned warrior was right. The insignia on the man’s armor indicated he was Constable of the Grey.

“Warden-Constable Gabriel Bernard,” Erik noted. He turned to the four in the room, “Good eye not greasing him.”

“Thank you, Your Worship,” a dwarf next to the Qunari holding the Constable aloft responded.

“ Andraste’s tits,” Herah responded behind them, “Meraad, Khazon, McBride, Suriel, get him back to the casualty outpost and keep him guarded. You four are getting promoted and I’m putting you all in for fucking medals.”

They nodded professionally, holding in their excitement and jubilation.

“Let’s go, fuckhead,” the elf in the group, who he assumed was Suriel, ordered, leading out with her crossbow at the ready. The other three followed close behind with the Qunari man, Meraad, guiding the Constable  through the corridor.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Herah sighed, “Come on, we aren’t-”

She was cut off by a bone-rattling screech in the distance, followed by screams of fear. Erik’s stomach dropped. The dragon had arrived, meaning Evelyn had reached Erimond and Clarel.

“ Fuck,” Erik bit out.

“ Let’s go,” Sera said to him. Erik shook his head at the elf.

“You’re going to hate what’s about to happen.  It’s better if you stay here ,” he warned Sera.

“Was that a dragon?”  Herah asked in shock, her company filing out into the next courtyard quickly.

“That was  _ Corypheus’s _ dragon,” he corrected, “I gotta go. Shit’s about to get real bad for Evelyn, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I weren’t there to help her through it.”

“What do you mean? What’s about to happen?” she pressed, desperation in her voice.

“She’s about to physically fall into the Fade.”

“Oh! Well, in that case, I’m staying with the tall, hot, horned woman,” Sera deadpanned. Herah’s eyes went wide for a moment at Sera’s comment, then her jaw set.

“Go,” she nodded, “The Inquisitor needs you more than we do. Do you want a couple of blades guarding your back?”

“No, I got this,” he responded even while he broke into a trot, “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“ Good luck,” she shouted after him.

H e turned around and briefly ran backward. “I don’t need luck! I have ammo.”

Erik sprinted through the fortress as fast as he could.  The fortress had become an absolute madhouse, with demons crawling out of every small hole and crevice and assaulting both Inquisition and Warden forces alike. Erik expended half a magazine bringing down demon after demon, never slowing his dead sprint more than a hair to kill his enemies. The demons were even crawling down from the walls as he sprinted along the open walkways, the red lyrium dragon swooping through the skies and immolating anything that it saw. Erik glanced at the monstrosity and noticed it had only its left eye as it darted through the air and he let himself smile smugly.

_ That’s right, fuck you, you punk-ass bitch _ , Erik thought to himself as he glanced at the dragon.

He eventually found the doors to the ritual chamber at the heart of Adamant and sprinted through. It was here that he stopped briefly. Demons were everywhere, and Inquisition forces were fighting alongside Wardens to put the horrors down. He caught a glimpse of Cullen fighting with a Warden against three greater shades at once, and Erik put bullets in each of them and ran over, as the fighting in the courtyard began to die down. Cullen saw Erik approaching at a trot and turned toward him.

“Erik, good timing, we need aid –”

“No time,” he breathed heavily, “Which way did Evelyn go?”

Cullen blinked. “She went through the door just to the right of the ritual dais. Why?”

Erik was already beginning to move. He ignored the Commander’s question and sprinted through the combat around him and up the stairs. He came to another walkway and glanced around. He hadn’t seen the dragon fly overhead toward the Abyssal Rift yet, so that was good. But he still had a bit of distance to cover, and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it in time.

He shook the thought out of his head. No, he  _ was _ going to make it. He refused to let  his sister face the Nightmare demon and her impossible decision of which ally to let die alone.  It wasn’t in his nature to give up, even to mentally quit. He was going to make it and help her and whoever else fell into the Fade with her. He just hoped she wouldn’t be mad that he was about to  _ willingly _ jump into the Fade after her.

He turned another corner and saw the dragon soar overhead at breakneck speed. Erik grunted and slung his rifle tight around his back. There would be no more enemies in the waking world for him, so the weapon was just slowing him down when he was holding it in his hands. Erik estimated he had another minute or two to make it to the Abyssal Rift, and he had another five hundred meters to go.

So he gave everything he had left and ran faster than he ever had in his life, exhaustion the farthest thing from his mind. He rounded the second to last corner as he heard a powerful blast and the shriek of the dragon. The ground began to rumble and Erik cursed. Just one corner to go, then a dead sprint to Evelyn and her team. The stones began to rumble more, and he heard  Varric and Vivienne shout  while Isabela shrieked in horror . Blackwall’s gruff voice barked something, and Erik rounded the last corner.

The walkway was still collapsing. He caught just a peek of Evelyn’s red hair as she tumbled down with the stones, and Erik steeled himself and took off.

“Erik, she’s gone,” both  Vivienne and Blackwall shouted at the same time. He ignored both of them and kept his pace toward the collapsing bridge.  Isabela stood near the edge  with Varric , her mouth covered in horror as she watched her wife fall,  while Varric had both hands in his hair as he watched his best friend .  Blackwall moved to restrain him, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Cole restrain Blackwall. B lackwall’s foot came out in an attempt to trip Erik ,  but he vaulted over,  sprinting past the  bearded man . Erik heard  Varric call his name as he sprinted toward the edge of the collapsing stones and his falling sister.

Finally, he reached the edge, and he let himself fall without hesitation. He’d done this hundreds of times on Earth, and it was second nature to him. Erik’s upper body fell first, followed by his legs as he dove off the edge and toward the deep. He tightened his body like a pencil and fell headfirst toward his tumbling sister. He smiled involuntarily at the sensation of the wind whipping past his ears and the feeling of the cold air on his cheeks. His ears were filled with the violent noise of the air rushing past him and his long, uncut hair slapped against his neck as he fell.

_ Fitting, that my last jump would be in Thedas _ , he reasoned. He did the math quickly in his mind and realized it was his two hundredth freefall.

He watched as Evelyn opened the rift and the rest of the group fell through. He counted Solas, Dorian,  Bull , Cassandra, Howe,  and Hawke among the ones that were taking a trip to the Twilight Zone with his sister. Erik noted that he was rapidly catching up with Evelyn as she tumbled. Then she turned around, her back toward the rift, and her eyes grew wide as she saw him.

“ERIK, N-” He cut her off with his own shout.

“AIR-FUCKING-BORNE!” he laughed as he sped past her and through the rift. The instant he was in the green landscape of the Fade, he spread his arms and legs and prepared for the oddest experience of his life.

* * *

The instant they were through the gate, Evelyn shut down her conscious mind and allowed her body to take over, throwing spell after spell at the demons and corrupted Wardens. She was vaguely aware of Howe fighting beside her, as well as Erik – briefly, before he ran off with Herah and her Hunters to clear another section of the fortress. She was slightly aware of the rest of the Inner Circle fighting like mad around her, clearing the entrance alongside the standard infantry forces with brutal precision. She knew the air smelled like shit and death and pain, but her mind ignored it as she slashed her staff into a demon and followed it up with immolating another and then moving on to the next.

She also vaguely remembered giving Cullen a burning kiss and saying that she loved him, but that could be handled at a later time.  There were demons to kill and an Order of heroes to save.

Exhaustion or stopping for a breath was not a thought that crossed her mind as she moved through the fortress and cut a path of death with her team that anyone she knew from the Circle would be appalled at.  But she was a different woman now. Now she was a warrior, and she took pride in using her magic to cut through monsters that would harm others. It was as Erik told her the first time she ever saw combat: the only solution to evil and violent people are good people more skilled in violence. And she had become very proficient in violence.

They moved back outside briefly, and  Cassandra was saved from a side blow by  Howe , who intercepted it with  the metal section of his bow and drove  an arrow  into the assailant with a grunt of disgust.  Evelyn cut down demon after demon as  she moved through the group gracefully,  conducting a dance of death that somehow mirrored her dances at the Winter Palace .  Dorian flung himself into battle alongside her, his skills in necromancy striking fear into every Warden they came across while he shocked every demon that came into his view until it exploded in viscera and slime. Solas was using his powers to increase their defenses,  healing, and casting barriers while manipulating the Veil around them to throw enemies to the ground and physically bludgeon his foes, his face completely impassive as he walked a path of both death and life.  Another Warden  mage  fell to Cole  when he materialized behind him and drove his razor-sharp blades through his eyes and yanked backward, splitting the Warden’s head in three as the mage crumpled to the ground lifelessly .  The mage was not a face  Howe seemed to recognize,  as he watched the man die and then shot three arrows into an armored shade creeping toward Cole from behind; it went down with a shriek and disintegrated,  and Howe retrieved the arrows before moving on to the next demon that caught his eye. Countless more demons attacked  in a swarm , but Cassandra and  Blackwall held them at bay as best  they could,  creating a small shield wall and lunging forward to drive their blades into the demons occasionally, taking them down one by one .  They only split their protective barrier occasionally to let Bull through, who had given in to his bloodlust and cleaved his way through demons like a walking horde of rampaging Qunari, laughing the entire time he swung his maul into the monstrosities made flesh. Vivienne, too, was cleaving her way through demons from the front, using a spirit blade to slash demons and Warden mages alike clean through.

Finally, the last assailant in the area was dead, and they glanced at their work. At least fifteen mages, and sixty or seventy demons. And there were  only ten of them. Evelyn smiled wickedly.

“Damn, we are fucking  _ good _ ,” Bull laughed as they trotted along the walkway, dripping blood and demon essence.

“I still don’t understand why you aren’t with the Chargers,” Cassandra yelled over the din of the pitched battle.

“Ah, I trust Krem enough to get the boys through this,” he waved her off, “Besides, you guys need me more here.”

They moved on along the walkway and came upon a group of Wardens fighting each other. Evelyn quickly woke her conscious mind and observed the situation.

"Brothers, can't you see this is madness?" one Warden shouted as he fought his own comrade.

"It's no use! Their minds are not their own," another yelled as he ducked under a spell shot by an enthralled mage.

The Inner Circle approached the Wardens. A small group had their blades drawn on their own brethren and were being assaulted by demons. Cassandra and  Blackwall darted forward and cut down the demons as Solas raised his staff and arced lightning across the hostile Wardens. Within moments, all had fallen.  Evelyn slung her staff as a sign of non-aggression, and the rest of her companions did the same with their weapons as they approached the free Wardens .

“ Stop! Come no closer!” the man that appeared to be the leader yelled at them as the Wardens turned and readied their blades.

Evelyn held her hands up in supplication. "The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill Wardens! If you fall back, I swear on my honor you won't be harmed."

The leader looked at his subordinates for a brief, tense, long second, then nodded. "All right. My men will stay back. We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must."

Evelyn gave the men and women a nod and they moved on, drawing their weapons once more as they climbed the stairs to the battlements.

"Well said," Howe breathed gratefully, "I had hoped some of the Wardens would listen to reason."

They moved on to the battlements and found Inquisition forces battling thousands of demons. Solas stood back and began casting small bolts of fire at the demons as Cassandra, Blackwall and Iron Bull moved in unison, cutting down the hostile spirits that surrounded them while Cole darted between his twisted kin, mercilessly driving daggers into any he came close to. Dorian and Evelyn stood back to back as shades and wraiths and terrors began to close on them from all sides. Evelyn turned and nodded to Dorian as she let her conscious mind drift away once more. Together, they began swinging their staves with reckless abandon. Evelyn let muscle memory completely take over as she took each enemy in stride.

Left, then right. Immolate, then a chain lighting. Shade on the left, staff blade to the skull. Freeze the greater terror to her left, let Dorian take care of it. Another chain lightning. Wall of fire in front of the group of shades directly before her. Six bolts of energy at the wraiths to the shades’ right. Shades got through the wall of fire, they’re with four terrors. One is attempting to teleport beneath them; open a rift above the group. Ignore their shrieks of agony as they’re pulled back into the Fade. Duck when Dorian yells it, let him sweep a stream of fire against the rest of the demons as they all fall.

As soon as the first siege point was clear, Cole led them on to the second, shouting about help. A pride demon was tearing through some of Evelyn’s men yet they valiantly stood their ground and hacked away at the massive monster. Evelyn immediately fade-stepped toward the demon and drove her staff blade into its knee, bringing it down quickly with a loud, sickening _crunch_. The rest of the Inner Circle was with her soon after, and Dorian used his knowledge of time to do something she’d never seen before: dilate time to slow the demons and give them an upper hand. Together, the Inner Circle and Cullen’s infantry hacked and slashed away at the pride demon and the lesser demons with it, staining the stones of Adamant with demon blood as the monsters roared in pain that they could not hear. Finally, as Dorian’s spell wore off, the pride demon collapsed on the stones with a deafening crash and cheers from her soldiers, all chanting her name. Evelyn gave a quick salute and they ran on through the battle, her energy never waning.

They moved on to the final siege point only to find Varric, Hawke, and Isabela cutting and shooting down demons with ease; the three created a triangle of death and terror wherever they struck. Evelyn had never seen Varric move so acrobatically as he literally vaulted over a demon and shot a bolt through its head, killing it as he moved on and threw spikes to the ground from his coat to slow a group of demons attacking his best friend and her wife. Hawke and Isabela took the opportunity given to them and darted forward, slashing and stabbing the recovering demons mercilessly and covering themselves in blood and dirt. They were almost too fast to see, their blades and bodies both blurred visages darting between dying demons. By the time the Inner Circle arrived, there were none left for their own blades and staffs and bows. Hawke turned and nodded with a sly grin, huffing a deep breath into her lungs and flicking a particularly large piece of guts off her upper arm. 

"Inquisitor,” she greeted cheekily, “Always a pleasure."

“What took you so long? None of you are _that_ old,” Varric jabbed.

“We should be thanking you, really,” Isabela laughed, “You left all the fun here to us.”

"Good work," Evelyn merely said, for once at a loss of words. She glanced to the rest of her companions; Cassandra seemed utterly dumbfounded. Evelyn suddenly thought that maybe Varric’s version of Hawke’s story didn’t hold as much fiction as she’d previously thought.

"Stay with my forces and see that they survive this," she ordered as they turned and moved to get down from the battlements. _Judging from_ _that_ _display_ _,_ _you’ll_ _be more than up to the task,_ she thought dryly/

Marian nodded, her humor gone. "We'll keep the demons off them as best we can." Then she suddenly turned and drove one of her daggers through a terror demon’s head before kicking another off the battlements and into the spikes below.

They moved forward and downward as more Wardens withdrew, some being attacked by the very demons they had summoned. Howe’s face was painted with worry and despair, and the rest of Evelyn’s small group did not look much better. They saw little combat during their movement and they used the time to catch a little breath before they were thrust back into the fray once more. Evelyn heard the telltale, repetitive cracking of Erik’s rifle in the distance, followed by ‘eat a dick, fuckhead!’ and she allowed herself a chuckle at Cassandra’s reaction to her brother’s distant outburst.

Eventually, they arrived at a lower battlement, where Isabela, Hawke, and Varric were ferociously battling alongside the Inquisition soldiers; they had apparently beaten her own group there and were clearly keeping score, shouting out numbers as they killed their way through the fortress – much to Evelyn’s morbid amusement. They moved into the skirmish and slashed against the monsters and mages, protecting their own forces as much as they could in the cramped space.

The last demon fell to one of Evelyn’s soldiers’ blades. She looked around at the area and noticed there was a handful of wounded, some looking dangerously injured. Vivienne, Solas, and Dorian moved toward the ones that were worse for wear and began to increase their chances of survival. 

"How many of them are there?" Hawke asked worriedly.

"Fewer thanks to you," a soldier replied before turning to Evelyn, "Hawke saved a lot of lives on the battlements, Inquisitor."

“Get them to the casualty collection point at the front of the fortress. There are spirit healers there that can save the wounded,” she ordered, “The fighting has calmed down a bit, but make sure to keep a few of you free of burdens to protect those carrying the wounded.”

The soldiers nodded and began to pick up the wounded and carry them back out of the chamber and toward salvation.

"Not all the Wardens have stood against us," Howe said thankfully, “Maker willing, we may be able to reason with Clarel.”

A soldier turned to her before they left the area. "Commander Cullen will hold a path open for us as long as possible, Inquisitor. Our forces are ready when you are."

Evelyn nodded, and together with Hawke, Isabela, Varric, and the rest of the Inner Circle, she stormed toward the large wooden doors that led to the heart of Adamant. As they moved with purpose, she steeled herself for the confrontation they were about to have and whatever ‘horrible event’ Erik had warned of. The doors were on them before she had much time to think, and she tried the knob. They were locked, and she backed away to allow Isabela to drop to a knee and pick the mechanism. The act was done quickly and Isabela put away her tools before pushing open the door.

A grey-haired woman holding a mage’s staff stood on the balcony above them. Warden-Commander Clarel, Evelyn concluded. Dozens of Wardens and demons stood in a circle around a huge rift, almost as large as the one that sat beneath the Breach, with several Mages holding the rift open. Bodies of Wardens were strewn everywhere, with the rest of the non-mage Wardens standing near a corner, looking terrified. Her group crept inside silently as Clarel began to speak, her voice carrying through the closed courtyard. 

"Wardens, we are betrayed by the very world we have sworn to protect," she began before she was cut off.

Erimond stood to Clarel’s right and approached her as she spoke; His expression gave away the fact that he was clearly impatient. 

"The Inquisition is inside, Clarel,” he whisper-shouted, “We have no time to stand on ceremony."

Clarel turned and looked at the man in disgust. "These men and women are giving their lives, Magister. That might mean little in Tevinter, but for the Wardens, it is a sacred duty." She turned to another man standing beside her. He was very old, his hair grey and thin and his face exhausted and full of resignation. It was clear to Evelyn that he'd seen many years of war and strife. Evelyn crept forward slightly and dropped low as she peeked around a corner with Hawke and Howe, the three of them trying to get a better view of the ritual.

“I’m so glad I got Bethany away from all this,” Hawke whispered, her voice full of hurt.

“This is madness,” Howe hissed. Evelyn hushed him and the group fell silent as they watched on. Clarel's voice was filled with sorrow as she spoke to the old man on the dais with her. 

"It has been many long years, my friend," the Warden-Commander said with a cracking and watery voice.

The man nodded agreement. "Too many, Clarel,” he agreed in a weary voice, “If my sword arm can no longer serve the Wardens, then my blood will have to do." He saluted and bowed his head before turning around so his back was facing the Warden-Commander.

Clarel merely nodded. "It will." 

She approached his back slowly and drew a dagger, swiftly opening his neck and spilling his blood on a stone ritual table.

Anger welled violently inside her as the Inner Circle stepped out of the shadows, catching Erimond’s gaze. His eyes grew wide and he jumped slightly before pointed to the group.

"Stop them!” he ordered, “We must complete the ritual." Evelyn held up her hand and slowly approached the progressing blood ceremony. 

"Clarel, if you complete that ritual, you're doing exactly what Erimond wants," Evelyn shouted carefully, her voice carrying across the courtyard and echoing with authority and confidence.

Erimond guffawed and rolled his eyes. "What, fighting the Blight? Keeping the world safe from darkspawn? Who wouldn't want that? And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do _not_ hate the Wardens for doing their duty."

"We make the sacrifices no one else will," Clarel shouted defiantly, "Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them."

"And then the Magister there binds the mages to Corypheus!" Howe screamed in rage as he stepped forward.

Clarel was clearly shocked at Nathaniel’s words as she took a step back, her eyes growing wide and her eyebrows climbing up her forehead. 

"Corypheus?” she stuttered, “But he's dead."

Erimond looked at the Warden-Commander with disdain. "These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel."

Clarel faltered for a moment, clearly battling her own thoughts and doubts. She glanced around the ritual chamber, then at Evelyn, then at the man she had just slain lying on the ground before her. 

There was a tight moment of silence, then Clarel stood resolute. 

"Bring it through."

Evelyn sighed and drew her staff as she and her companions began to move forward, and the Wardens returned their gesture, drawing their blades and bows as they advanced on their group.

"Please! I have seen more than my share of blood magic," Hawke pleaded as she attempted to reason with the Wardens, "It is _never_ worth the cost."

"I’ve fought Darkspawn hordes with half of you in the Deep Roads," barked in frustration. "Do not make me kill you to stop this madness!"

Erimond was clearly pleased with the development, smirking at them as he turned back to the Warden-Commander. "Be ready with the ritual, Clarel. This demon is truly worthy of your strength."

The rift shimmered as the Warden mages began to focus their magic. Evelyn sighed and raised her voice even as she prepared a spell in case it devolved into a fight. 

"Listen to me! I have no quarrel with the Wardens. I respect you all more than you know! I spared those I could. I don't want to kill you, but you're being used..." she looked around at the men and women surrounding them and gave them an earnest look, "And some of you know it, don't you?" A dark-skinned Warden nodded and gave Evelyn a sorrowful look. 

"The mages who've done the ritual?” he spoke with a confused tone in a Markham accent, “They're not right. They were my friends, but now they're like puppets on a string."

"You cannot let fear sway your mind, Warden Chernoff," Clarel barked from the dais, momentarily breaking her concentration from the summoning.

Isabela shot a hateful look at Clarel. "He's not afraid. You are. You're afraid that you ordered all these brave men and women to die for nothing."

“I honor your bravery, my brothers and sisters, but this is not the way,” Howe declared firmly, “You have been lied to.”

Erimond looked around at the Wardens turning on him and his plan. He looked at the aging Warden mage with a pleading look. 

"Clarel, we have come so far. You're the only one who can do this,” he pleaded.

The Warden-Commander hesitated, clearly doubtful. "Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges, to avoid more bloodshed."

Erimond sneered and brought his staff up. "Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally." He slammed his staff into the stone ground and turned to Evelyn and her companions, looking down on them with a smug expression. 

"My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor,” he shouted with arrogance, “He sent me _this_ to welcome you."

A roar echoed from the far end of Adamant Fortress. Shock and horror dawned on the faces of the Wardens. There was a moment of calm as everyone turned toward the direction of the noise. Then Corypheus’s dragon soared over Adamant. It landed atop a tower and spread its tattered wings as it shrieked again, looking down on the courtyard with one glowing eye filled with maddened malice. 

Erimond looked beyond pleased with himself for a brief moment before Clarel shot a bolt of lightning into the Magister, throwing him across the raised dais and slamming him against a wall. He collapsed to the ground, his body and clothes smoking as he groaned in pain. Evelyn turned toward the free Grey Wardens in the courtyard and gave a nod as she readied her staff. Without hesitation, the Grey Wardens drew their blades and faced the demons surrounding them.

They charged, slashing their way through the demons in the courtyard as Clarel gave chase to the fleeing and injured Magister. The dragon breathed down fire upon them, sending the Inner Circle diving to the ground in all different directions. The ball of corrupted flame smashed into the stones and explodes, the flames licking at demons and enthralled mages alike. They clambered to their feet and immediately launched themselves back into the fray. A massive pride demon clambered its way through the rift, which the Wardens quickly turned on. As it stood to its full height and cackled, a woman turned to Evelyn. 

“Go! Close the rift later,” she barked in determination, “We’ll hold them off!”

Evelyn nodded and they moved quickly up the stairs to where Clarel had gone. Demons had clawed their way out of the depths of the fortress and swarmed everywhere. The Wardens now fought alongside Inquisition soldiers, driving back the demon horde with ferocity where they could and holding their ground with vigilance where they couldn’t. The field had devolved into the most chaotic mess Evelyn had ever seen as she ran across the outer walkway and threw spells at the assaulting demons. And every time the dragon swooped from the sky, Wardens and Inquisition soldiers alike fell to its claws and teeth and flame. Evelyn gritted her teeth in frustration and sprinted along the battlements, furious that there was nothing she could do.

_ I guess this is what Erik meant _ , she thought grimly.

Evelyn and the Inner Circle rounded a corner and sprinted towards a half-bridge overlooking the depths of the Abyssal Rift where she caught a glimpse of Erimond shooting bolt after bolt of magic at a furious and advancing Clarel, who deflected each and every one of his feeble attacks with ease. She closed the distance slightly and called forth a bolt of lightning that smashed into Erimond with so much force that he flew back ten feet.

" _ You, _ ”  she rasped in rage, “You've destroyed the Grey Wardens." He laughed smugly and  rolled on the ground, trying and failing to push himself to his feet. 

"You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch. All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn't  _ wait _ to get your hands bloody,"  he winced with smug satisfaction as Clarel tossed him down the half-bridge another ten feet,  "You could have served a new god."

"I will _never_ serve the Blight."

Evelyn didn’t even see the thing coming. The dragon landed between her group and Clarel with a thunderous crash, snatching the Warden-Commander in its massive jaws. It shook its head violently and the dragon tossed her aside like a rag doll before it turned and advanced on the Inner Circle. They all drew their respective weapons and steeled themselves; Evelyn said a silent prayer as it approached.

But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clarel still moving, blood pooling around her and soaking into her once proud Grey Warden uniform. She dragged herself towards the dragon. 

"In war, victory..." She rolled onto her back and gripped her staff as the dragon stepped over her, paying no attention to her prostrate and mangled form. 

"In peace, vigilance..." She began to gather a tremendous amount of magic into her hands. Erimond’s eyes grew wide as he scrambled off the bridge with the last of his strength.

“In death… sacrifice.” Clarel thrust her hands upward, sending a furious torrent of magic into the tainted dragon’s underside. It screamed an unholy noise in pain and fury and threw itself sideways, bounding into the bridge and sending stones into the abyss below.

The ancient structure began to shake, and Evelyn’s eyes grew wide. She turned to her companions.

“Run."

Together they turned and ran as fast as they could off the collapsing bridge. Hawke frantically grabbed Varric and Isabela and frantically threw them forward, and Howe shoved Cassandra five feet ahead of him in a desperate attempt to save someone. Evelyn smiled at the group’s progress as she and Solas matched their speed. They were going to make it. 

Then the dragon thrashed again, and the bridge collapsed, and seven of them did not make it. Howe, Cassandra, Evelyn, Solas, Hawke, Iron Bull, and Dorian felt the stones beneath and in front of them shift, and Evelyn’s stomach dropped. They were all thrown into the horrible sensation of freefall as they tumbled weightlessly toward the Abyssal Rift deep below. 

Instinctively, Evelyn thrust her left hand forward, and she saw the familiar shimmer of a rift begin to glow far below as they all were dropped mercilessly toward the hole in the world.

She tumbled back first to the rift for a moment and caught a glimpse of an eighth figure falling toward them rapidly. It didn’t even look like they fell, it looked as though they intentionally flung themselves off the collapsing edge. The figure grew closer and closer, and she recognized the unique weapon and lightly curled, long red hair whipping through the air as the man dove headfirst toward them and the rift. Her eyes widened in shock.

“ERIK, N-” she began to shout. He cut her off with his own booming, laughing voice.

“AIR-FUCKING-BORNE!” he shouted as he darted past her and through the rift. Evelyn felt tears fill her eyes as she slipped through the hole after him and out of the physical world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Soldiers of the Wasteland by Dragonforce - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yg8VFMZ6_g8
> 
> As I said before, this was going to be two chapters, but you can only describe stabbing people in the face in so many ways when you only have 2 POV characters.
> 
> Next chapter will be up very soon. You're all going to hate me.


	43. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to the Fade. Evelyn gets her memories back. Erik learns what he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been two chapters but there was no clear-cut break to split this in half. So here's a ~9.1k word chapter.
> 
> I'm hitting post and then going to hide in a bunker and waiting for the fallout to pass.
> 
> Bioware/EA own Dragon Age, its story, its characters, and the in-game dialogue. The rest is my brainchild.
> 
> Warning: Brief depiction of an attempted suicide.

For a brief second, Evelyn was suspended with the wet ground above her. It was above her because she seemed to be upside-down, yet no blood was rushing to her head and her hair was still down on her shoulders. She stretched a hand out and just brushed the damp stone, and gravity righted itself. She was flung down and hit the stone belly-first with a grunt. After regaining her breath she grabbed her staff and looked around; her friends seemed as dazed and confused as she was. Dorian’s eyes were full of shock and awe. Howe was standing on a floating stone that was tinted a sickly green instead of the midnight blue that should have hung over adamant. Evelyn frowned. The fact that it was floating should have confused her more than anything. She glanced to her right; Hawke and Varric stood upside down on another floating stone nearby.

"Where are we?" Howe stammered.

"We were falling," Evelyn said as she glanced at her surroundings. It seemed to be a valley, filled with small puddles of water. The stone glowed with silvery veins of light and jutted out haphazardly in all directions. Odd black buildings littered the landscape, often oriented at strange and mind-bending angles. A mist hung low in the shimmering air, shifting this way and that as she and her companions moved about. Huge boulders floated peacefully in the sky, which, on a second glance, was green and churned and roiled, not unlike the waves of the open ocean.

Hawke actually laughed. "If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom."

"No… this is –” Solas began

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the physical Fade!” a familiar voice shouted as though he were an entertainer. Evelyn spun and looked at the man in question.

“My name is Erik Andersen, and I will be your guide through this completely fucked situation,” he smiled as he walked confidently toward them, “Along with Solas, the Apostate Hobo. I would like to congratulate you; you seven are the first to be here in twelve hundred years! …Well, technically, it happened a few months ago, but that doesn’t count because neither individual remembers the incident.”

Solas ignored Erik’s quips. "The Inquisitor opened a rift. We came through… and survived,” he smiled broadly, “I never thought I would ever find myself here physically..." 

The bald elf pointed at a massive, unnaturally black construct hanging in the sky about a kilometer away, with huge towers and windows that glowed with an inner light. "Look. The Black City, almost close enough to touch."

Evelyn stared at the monstrosity. She had always known that every point in the Fade was equidistant from the Black City, but being here physically must mean free movement.

She sighed and decided to keep calm. "This must be very exciting for you, Solas. Any advice you have on what exactly is going on would be wonderful."

“The first time I entered the Fade, it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks,” Dorian said airily with a roll of his eyes, “I met a marvelous desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he tried to possess me. This is not a castle filled with gold and silks.”

Hawke laughed and folded her arms. "It's not how I remember the Fade, either.”

“Perhaps it's because we're here physically, instead of just dreaming," Dorian pondered.

Hawke looked down at Evelyn… or was it up? "The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?"

Evelyn frowned and looked around. It certainly seemed familiar. But she couldn’t be entirely sure.

"I don't know,” she admitted, “I still can't remember what happened the last time I pulled this off."

Hawke nodded and hopped from the to where Cassandra stood in a disorienting manner, landing in a crouch.

"Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now,” she postulated, “That huge demon was on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others."

Bull groaned. “Oh, this is shitty. I’ll fight whatever you throw at me, Boss, but nobody ever said nothing about getting dragged through the ass-end of demon town.”

Evelyn froze at Iron Bull’s comment, the pieces in her head falling together. She spun on her brother.

“You! You knew about this,” she shouted. He shrugged.

“Hey, you had to come here. It’s a pretty important thing that, like, _had_ to happen, and I couldn't risk you anticipating it and never opening the rift.”

“Erik,” she growled, “You’re the worst.”

“No, there are far worst things than me,” he reminded her.

Howe approached. "In the real world, the rift producing the demons was nearby, in the main hall. Can we return to Thedas through there?"

"It beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?" Evelyn joked.

“You’d better get a move on, fuckboys,” Erik sang, “There’s still a battle going on in the waking world.”

Evelyn ignored Erik’s quip but took his advice and looked beyond the Black City and saw a massive, churning green mass similar to the Breach.

"There,” she pointed, “Let's go."

The group of eight moved as quickly as we could. Cassandra seemed absolutely terrified, and Evelyn smiled reassuringly at her, and Cassandra took a deep breath and soothed herself. Solas, on the other hand, was as ecstatic as a child on his birthday.

"This is fascinating,” he rambled, “It is not the area I would have chosen, of course. But to physically walk within the Fade..."

"Concentrate on the task at hand, Solas,” Cassandra nearly shouted in a fearful, irritated voice, “There is nothing more dangerous than this place."

"Thank you for the warning," Solas drawled with a roll of his eyes.

“Cassandra, everything is going to be fine,” Erik reassured her.

She frowned at him. “How can you be so sure?”

“You realize who you’re talking to, right?”

“I… that’s fair.”

Evelyn ignored their banter, simply wanting to get back to the physical world, where people were fighting and dying in her name.

"Solas, you're the expert on this place,” she reasoned, “Anything helpful?"

He gave her a nod of appreciation. "The Fade is shaped by intent and emotion. Remain focused, and it will lead you where you wish to go," he explained, "The demon that controls this area is extremely powerful. Some variety of fear, I would guess. I suggest you remain wary of its manipulations and prepare for what is certain to be a fascinating experience."

“Fascinating is not the word I would use to describe this,” Cassandra growled.

“It’s the word _I_ would use,” Dorian shrugged, “It's certainly fascinating in a twisted, morbid way.”

They set a fast pace, but there were riddles, puzzles to be solved. Each time the group solved one, there seemed to be some lessening of the weight of doom in the air, and each individual felt stronger, faster, or smarter. It felt right.

Cassandra and Howe guarded each other, while Dorian and Solas remained close. Hawke paired up with Bull, which felt odd because Hawke was arguably more dangerous than Bull but didn’t look it. Erik stuck by Evelyn’s side, a calm smile on his face the entire time.

The group fought demons that shifted shapes, forming into each of their greatest fears. Each time one fell, it was as if they had conquered one of the terrors, and the weight in the air lessened again.

Evelyn walked up a staircase that seemed to move on itself and stopped dead in her tracks. She stared dumbfounded at a woman in Chantry robes. Solas bumped into her back, and Cassandra let out a gasp. 

"By the Maker,” Howe whispered in awe. Divine Justinia nodded with a smile as the group approached slowly.

"I greet you, Warden,” she said in a soothing voice heavily tinted with an Orlesian accent, “And you, Champion."

Cassandra seemed to have tears in her wide eyes. "Divine Justinia? Most Holy?"

"Cassandra," The Divine smiled warmly at her former Right Hand.

Evelyn wasn’t convinced. She turned to the Seeker.

"Cassandra, you knew the Divine,” she said, “Is this really her?"

"I… I don't know. It is said the souls of the dead pass through the Fade and sometimes linger, but..." Cassandra sighed, "We know the spirits lie. Be wary, Inquisitor."

“The true Divine is likely dead,” Howe agreed, “We’re probably facing a spirit. Or a demon."

"You think my survival impossible, yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves,” Justinia pointed out calmly, “In truth, proving my existence, either way, would require time we do not have."

"Really?" Hawke crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, "How hard is it to answer one question? I'm a human, and you are..."

"I am here to help you," The Divine looked Evelyn in the eyes, "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor."

Everything clicked into place. “The _real_ Divine would have no way of knowing I was made Inquisitor,” she said carefully.

"I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus," she explained, "It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? It's work."

Howe stood straighter. "Looks like I have to pay this Nightmare a visit."

"You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is its lair."

"Corypheus seems to have a lot of demons at his disposal,” she pointed out, fishing for information, How does he command so many?"

"I know not how he commands his army of demons. His power may come from the Blight itself. But the Nightmare serves willingly, for Corypheus has brought much terror to this world. He was one of the Magisters who unleashed the First Blight upon the world, was he not?” she let out a mournful sigh, “Every child's cry as the Archdemon circles, every dwarf's whimper in the Deep Roads… the Nightmare has fed well."

Evelyn decided she didn’t care whether it was the Justinia or not. It was clear the ‘Divine’ was here to aid them.

“Can you help us get out of the Fade?"

"That is why I found you,” she explained, “When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it."

She gestured at the spheres of green light across the canyon behind her.

"These are your memories, Inquisitor," she said before turning toward Erik and pointing to blue orbs, “And these… are yours, dear Champion.”

Erik and Evelyn shared a look before glancing at the spheres of light before them. Erik cracked a grin.

“Rock, paper, scissors to see who goes first?” he asked. Evelyn rolled her eyes and marched toward the first sphere and took it in her hands. Immediately she was taken away from the landscape of the Fade.

_The Divine_ _floated_ _in the air through_ _the_ _magic of a half dozen_ _enthralled_ _Gr_ _e_ _y Wardens. Corypheus_ _strode_ _forward_ _on twisted legs, smiling triumphantly and_ _outstretching the hand holding the orb_ _._

**_"Now is the hour of our victory."_ **

_"Why are you doing this?" Justinia_ _shouted_ _in a panic, "You, of all people?"_

 _**"Keep the sacrifice still,"** _ _Corypheus demanded as he_ _brought the orb closer to the Divine. As he did so, it began to glow._

_"Someone help me!"_

_The door opened._ _Evelyn_ _saw_ _her_ _self, the day of the Conclave, having_ _heard a commotion in the ashes chamber and deciding to investigate_ _._ _She_ _was clearly confused. "What’s going on here?"_

“ ** _We have an intruder,”_** _Corypheus declared, holding a gnarled, outstretched finger at her. The Wardens moved to strike, then froze in confusion when a flash of green light appeared to Evelyn’s left and Erik materialized._

“ _What in the hell…?” Erik looked down at himself, then around the chamber. His eyes fell on Corypheus._

“ _Oh! Buenos dias, fuckboy!” he shouted._

“… ** _What?”_** _the Darkspawn Magister looked genuinely confused._

 _Justinia saw her window to strike. She hit the orb from the darkspawn Magister’s hand. It rolled_ _out of his grip and toward Evelyn,_ _and_ _she_ _dove to catch i_ _t with her_ _left hand. The orb_ _immediately sparked_ _with_ _a_ _green light that_ _snaked its way_ _across_ _her_ _skin, and_ _she_ _heard_ _her_ _self_ _scream_ _in_ _agony_ _._

“ _Oh, shit,” Erik cursed as he jumped toward Evelyn, latching onto her body._ _Corypheus rushed toward_ _them_ _, and the memory was shattered as a blast of pure white light flooded the room._

Just as suddenly as it started, it was over. Evelyn looked around at her companions. It was clear each and every one of them saw the memory. Howe was the first to speak.

"So your mark did not come from Andraste," Howe concluded, "It was given to you through the orb Corypheus used in his ritual."

"Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City. Not for the Old Gods but for himself," the Divine explained, turning to Evelyn "When you and Erik disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead."

She stood staring at her in shock. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"That tells me nothing,” Evelyn ranted in frustration, “Not about Corypheus or a weakness for the demon, or even a way out of here. All it tells me is that I disrupted his ritual and got the Anchor from the orb."

"Yet even that information may one day help you," the Divine explained, remaining calm, "You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead." She turned to Erik.

“And you, my child, must recover your memories to discover your true nature.”

She vanished in a small flash of light.

The eight of them stood blinking in confusion until Howe spoke up.

"Something troubles you, Hawke?"

Hawke was fuming. "I wondered if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding The Divine in that vision. Their actions led to her death."

"I assumed he had enthralled them, as you have seen him do before," Howe explained, "Come. We can argue after we escape this shithole."

"Oh, I intend to," Marian grumbled, “But for now, Erik needs his memories.”

Evelyn watched her brother tentatively approach one of his orbs. He knelt down and picked it up, and it began to glow a bright blue that soon enveloped each and every one of them.

_He got out of the truck and opened up the back door, grabbing his rifle and rounds. He took them to the bed of the truck and lowered the hatch before hopping up onto it and staring at the range._

_It was a beautiful day, he supposed. Maybe others were enjoying it. The sky was clear and blue… he thought. He couldn’t really see colors that clearly anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he recognized the sky as blue, or saw a yellow car and registered it as yellow. Everything seemed washed out. Grey, even. It had become difficult to get out of bed. Difficult to eat. He had driven his friends away with his drinking, and even though he’d stopped drinking heavily and regularly, his irritable attitude still pushed everyone away._

_Erik was sick of it. He had no friends anymore. His parents were dead. He couldn’t seem to find someone that cared for him, and his last girlfriend had shattered his trust. He was tired of work, tired of waking up, tired of hating himself._

_He glanced down at the rifle. Killing was the only thing he was good at. He knew he could get one more kill as the lights went out… but he probably should have brought his glock. The rifle’s length was going to make things difficult._

_He loaded a round into the chamber and took the weapon off safe, placing the barrel in his mouth, tears streaming down his face. Just a few more seconds of living death…_

“ _Such a sad thing to see, when someone gives up on life,” a voice_ _that was not a voice spoke from his right. He jerked up, the barrel coming out of his mouth and the rifle nearly falling to the ground. He placed it on safe and set the weapon next to him._

“ _I… I’m sorry, I don’t –”_

_The person held up their hand. “It’s alright, child. I know.” They approached Erik, and he got a better look at the person’s features… or lack thereof. The individual before him was the most androgynous person he’d ever seen. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, or someone in the middle of transitioning, or something else entirely. They were wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt, with no shoes._

“ _Do you mind if I sit and we have a conversation?” they asked. Erik nodded and they approached the bed of the truck, removing the round from the rifle and keeping it before handing Erik the_ _weapon_ _, which he put aside._

“ _Tell me what plagues you,” they offered. Erik wasn’t sure why, but he did. He told them everything. About his parents, about his job, about the death of his friends, his alcoholism, his_ _ex- girlfriend’s infidelity, and how he had given up on life._

“ _It just doesn’t seem worth it anymore,” he sobbed, wiping tears from his cheeks in a futile move to prevent more from flowing._

_The person wrapped an arm around him and he flinched at the contact. When was the last time someone touched him at all?_

“ _There are things that make it all worth it, you realize,” they said. Erik dropped his head and shook it._

“ _It really doesn’t seem that way anymore.”_

_The person studied him for a moment and sighed._

“ _If this place is empty for you, there are other places,” they said quietly. Erik huffed and looked at the individual._

“ _What, like other countries?” he spat facetiously, “You think the Army would just let me drop everything and go full deserter?”_

“ _I meant other places. Other worlds. Some like this one… some not quite so.”_

“ _And I can’t get myself there because the laws of physics forbid it,” he sighed._

“ _You can’t get yourself there,” they confirmed, “But I can.”_

_Erik looked at them skeptically. “I doubt that.”_

“ _There are other places that require aid,” they said, “From a man like yourself. Your real self. The man you were before.”_

“ _You mean before my best friend died, I got cheated on, and I started drinking and one day woke up as a walking corpse.”_

“ _If you wish to put it that way, yes.”_

_Erik thought for a moment. There was nothing left for him here. His self-confidence was shattered, he lost his friends, and he would continue to fight a war with no end for people that, all things considered, really didn’t want help. Another world that actually needed someone like he used to be sounded like a place he could fit._

“ _Where do I sign?” he joked. The individual held up their hand._

“ _First, I need you to swear to me this: that you will_ _force_ _yourself out of this and find the_ will _to go on. No matter how hard it is or how much it hurts, you must go on. Is that agreeable?”_

_Erik stared at the ground absently and merely nodded._

“ _I don’t believe you. I am giving you hope, my child. I want to see a genuine smile,” they sternly ordered._

_Something clicked. They were right. He was being offered hope, and he was still wallowing. But hope was right in front of him. A light. He just needed the will to follow it._

_Slowly, his lips turned up on their own. It was not a wide grin, but it was more than he’d done in a long time. A year, at least._

“ _That’s better,” they said soothingly, “Now. I will give you the chance to choose where you go. Name a place. Or an idea of a place.”_

_Erik didn’t have to think. “Somewhere where I can have the chance to be happy.”_

_They thought for a moment, then sighed and dropped down from the truck bed. They stood in front of him and looked him in the eyes._

“ _I know of a place, and of people, that will give you purpose, and friends, and maybe even love,” they told him, “But it will not be easy. You will struggle. You will suffer. You will be faced with things you cannot even imagine.”_

“ _I don’t care. If I can be happy while facing all of it, that’s more than enough.”_

_They nodded and handed him his bag, belt, and rifle. Erik looked at them in confusion and then at the person._

“ _The people you will meet will be skeptical of you at first,” they explained, “You will need to prove your story.”_

_Erik nodded and slung his backpack on his shoulders, his rifle over his neck, and clipped his belt in place._

“ _Do you have any questions before you go, child?” they asked. Erik thought for a moment and narrowed his eyes._

“ _Who are you?” he questioned. They merely smiled warmly at him, like a parent to a child._

“ _I go by many names, my son. You know who I am.”_

“ _Wait a minute. God?”_

_And then he was filled with immeasurable pain, the first thing he’d truly felt in a very long time. It washed over his body and he felt as though he was torn, bone from sinew, cell from cell, atom from atom. The last thing he remembered was green. A color he recognized._

_And then he was no more, the memory fading to black._

The memory stopped abruptly and Evelyn was thrown back to herself. She gasped suddenly and looked around, disoriented at the idea that she had seen Erik’s memories. Mere moments, perhaps no time at all, had passed. She looked to her brother, who had collapsed and scrambled back to the rocks with a panicked look on his face. He began to hyperventilate, his eyes watery.

“Erik?” she called softly as she and the rest of the stunned group approached him.

“I almost did it,” he breathed, “I almost blew my brains out. I… I…”

He broke down into sobbing, the second time Evelyn had seen him snap entirely. She wrapped her arms around him and quietly shushed him.

“I remember what it was like,” he said through the sobs, “Every day was empty. I was empty. I didn’t see anyone outside of work. I slept more than I was awake. I couldn’t see colors clearly. It was miserable.”

“I know,” she murmured, “I saw everything. I felt everything.”

“We all did,” Cassandra spoke from behind her, “Erik, I am truly sorry.”

His sobbing began to stop. “No,” he shook his head, wiping his eyes, “No, it’s in the past now. I’m different. I’m better. I got myself out.”

“The one thing that confused me was the person you met,” Hawke hummed in a confused tone, “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged as he stood, “God? The Maker? Something else entirely? It doesn’t matter. I know how I got here now; that’s more than I had before. Let’s go. We have a date with the Nightmare.”

* * *

Cassandra began to ask questions as they moved on, her faith both strengthened and shaken.

"Could that truly have been the Most Holy?" she asked to no one in particular.

"We have survived in the Fade physically. Perhaps she did as well," Solas shrugged, "Or if it is a spirit that identifies so strongly with Justinia that it believes it is her, how can we say it is not?"

"Whether she is a spirit or a demon, she wishes to help us... for the moment, at least," Cassandra sighed.

"I'm less concerned with her than I am with the Nightmare she mentioned," Evelyn said, a hint of worry in her tone. Erik looked at her and began to speak, but Solas took the explanation instead.

"It is a fear demon, as I suspected, likely drawing on terrors related to the Blight,” he concluded, “Fear is a very old, very strong feeling. It predates love, pride, compassion...every emotion save perhaps desire. Be wary. The Nightmare will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve."

Howe ground his teeth. "After what it did to the Wardens, I’m going to find some way to kill it."

That seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say because Erik immediately felt a presence amongst them.

"Ah, we have a visitor," a calm, friendly voice spoke from all directions. "Some foolish little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders. You should have left your fear where it lay, forgotten. Do you think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me."

Erik actually laughed. Pain _d_ _id_ make him stronger. That much he discovered when he went off to war for the first time and rediscovered just a few minutes prior. The demons that looked like blighted versions of his friends and family moved to attack and he cut them down mercilessly and without fear. Cassandra’s sword and Hawke’s daggers made short work of the others, and Dorian made a ridiculously difficult shot that killed one silly enough to leap at Evelyn's back as she stabbed her staff blade into another.

The kind voice continued as they fought. "But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten."

They hadn't continued on much further when the voice spoke again. "But perhaps _I_ should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition," it laughed, "Ah, dear little Evelyn. Do you really think that the Inquisition cares about you? You’re just a tool, a means to an end. And if you succeed, when this is all done, they’ll name you apostate and wield the brand against you. Do you think it will not happen? Shall I count the number of Rites your dear Cullen presided over in Kirkwall?"

Evelyn froze, her eyes wide with fear. Erik stepped in immediately and grabbed her shoulders forcing her to look at him.

“Evelyn, look at me,” he said softly, “The Circles are gone. They will never brand you; I would die before that happened. Cullen regrets everything he did in Kirkwall. He wishes he could erase it all. And everyone here respects you and your leadership more than you know. You are not a tool. You are exactly who we needed, exactly when we needed it. If that isn’t Maker-sent, I don’t know what is. You’re worth more than that mark on your hand, believe me.”

She blinked and nodded, the fear draining from her eyes.

“We will never wield the brand against you, Inquisitor,” Cassandra offered, “That I can promise. You are our leader and our beacon.”

The voice returned. “What kind words, Erik. Such wisdom from a man that doesn’t even know who or what he is. ‘Lost in the sauce’, to use your term. But I digress… I wonder what would happen if you died here. You read that epilogue. You remember what happened if she loved him and he made the Ultimate Sacrifice. Do you think your death here in my home would be any different do her? I hear the rotunda at Skyhold is quite tall. In fact, isn’t your Inquisition’s castle built on a mountain? That’s quite a way down, wouldn’t you say?”

Erik stopped in place, his thoughts halting at the same time. He shook, not with fear or sorrow, but with rage. A rage he had never felt before.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he growled. The Nightmare merely laughed.

“You may try, little one.”

More demons died by their hands. The voice chose a new target.

"Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra. Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your 'faith' has been for naught."

Cassandra's voice snarled as she cut down the last of the fearling demons. "Die in the Void, demon."

Erik gave her a nod of approval and she sighed in relief.

They continued on, willing themselves to head toward the exit.

"Dirth ma, harellen. Ma banal enasalin. Mar Solas ena mar din."

"Banal nadas," Solas shot back. Erik didn’t speak elvish, but whatever Solas had said sounded nasty. He never googled it when he was on Earth.

More fearlings. Their group danced violently along the narrow path as the voice echoed off the walls. “The Qunari will make a lovely host for one of my minions,” the Nightmare jabbed at Bull, “Or maybe I will ride his body myself.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he grunted as he drove his maul into another fearling.

“Ah, and Dorian!” the Nightmare continued, “Greetings, Dorian…it is Dorian, isn’t it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed and he rolled his shoulders. “Rather uncalled for.”

The Nightmare was on a roll with his shitty roast session, and he didn’t seem to be on the verge of stopping.

"Do you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? Isabela is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about."

Hawke merely rolled her eyes. "Well, this is growing tiresome." 

“Warden Howe. What would your father think of you now? Friends with the man that killed him, serving the order that he fought against, living on his lands while his killer rules them. Do you really think you made your family proud? What would he think of your Velanna?”

Howe merely shrugged. “That was weak. Try harder. My father was a cunt. I like my job now, and I don’t give a shit that anyone knows I’m with Dalish woman.”

They continued on and found a graveyard. The group approached and read the names on the tombstones. Each one held a name of one of the Inner Circle members, along with the advisors.

_Solas – Dying Alone._

_Cole – Despair._

_Sera – Nothing._

_Dorian – Temptation._

_Cassandra – Helplessness._

_Hawke – Failure._

_Isabela – Losing Control._

_Howe - The Calling._

_Varric – Become is Parents._

_Vivienne – Irrelevance._

_Iron Bull – Madness._

_Blackwall – Himself._

_Cullen – Losing to Lyrium._

_Josephine – Killing a Person._

_Morrigan – Becoming Her Mother_ and _Losing_ _Her Son._

_Evelyn – Tranquility._

_Leliana –_ _Losing the Ones She Cares For_ .

_Erik - Being Unloved._

"Well," Dorian sighed, "This is rather disturbing."

Erik stared at his and Leliana's graves. They sat next to each other, the headstones clean and pearly white. He refused to think about the fears and turned to the group, where they were all staring at their own headstones with shocked looks.

"This isn't real," he said softly, "Come on, let's keep moving."

“Spiders. Always the Maker-damned spiders."

“Spiders?” Evelyn asked Hawke in a confused tone, “I see Templars with lyrium brands."

“Remember, we walk in the Fade. Demons of fear shape their appearance to unnerve each of us," Solas explained.

Erik definitely did not see spiders. He saw everyone he’d ever lost or cared for, all shambling toward him like ghouls. But as he killed each one, the fear left his body, bit by bit. Justinia – or the spirit playing Justinia – was waiting for them as they approached the end of the valley.

"The Nightmare is closer now,” she warned them, “It knows you seek escape. With each moment, it grows stronger."

Evelyn squared her shoulders. “Right. Let’s get out of here, then,” she ordered. They began their assault through the narrow valley they found themselves in. When the demons were dead, Evelyn nudged Erik.

“More memories,” she noted.

“Take yours,” he urged, “I’ll take mine after yours.”

Evelyn nodded and grabbed the light.

_He saw Evelyn climbing a staircase so steep it was practically a ladder. It was carved in the stone, and she was followed closely by Erik. The Divine stood above them._

_"The demons," the Divine_ _shouted, grasping Evelyn’s hand and pulling her up to the top of the mount_ _._ _Erik scrambled up immediately afterward, shouldering his rifle and pointing it down at the advancing fearlings. Together, the three of them moved toward the rift that led to Haven and what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes_ _._ _But as she moved, a demon_ _caught_ _the Divine_ _and jerked her_ _backward,_ _and their hands slipped from one another_ _._ _Evelyn_ _ran_ _after_ _Justinia as Erik shot the fearling_ _,_ _but it did not relent._ _Divine merely shook her head._

 _"Go.” And_ _the fearlings dragged her away_ _._ _Evelyn_ _steel_ _ed_ _her_ _face, and_ _together with Erik, she_ _turn_ _ed_ _to leap through the rift._

Erik opened his eyes to see his sister staring at Justinia.

"It was you,” she whispered in shock, “They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you… she died."

"Yes."

"So this is a spirit," Hawke declared.

Hawke raised an eyebrow and looked at her friend. "You don't say." The spirit turned towards the Champion of Kirkwall.

"I am sorry if I disappoint you," she said kindly, and Marian’s face fell in guilt.

The spirit slowly burned away the image of the Divine and became a glowing being, radiant and pure as she rose into the air.

"Are you… her? Did you linger here to help, instead of passing on?" Evelyn asked. Erik couldn’t blame her. From everything he’d seen in Thedas, it wasn’t so far fetched.

“If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one,” the spirit declared.

"What we do know is that the mortal Divine perished at the temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens." Hawke glared at Howe.

Howe turned in anger and shock. "As we concluded before, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus. We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant."

She slowly advanced on the Warden. "Assuming that the Wardens and their demon army didn't destroy the Inquisition while we were gone."

"How dare you judge us?” Howe shouted, “You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion."

"To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic," Hawke snapped as she stepped forward once again, nearly nose to nose with the man, "But you'd ignore that because you can't imagine a world without the Wardens… even if that's what we need."

"Agreed," Solas interjected, "The Wardens may once have served a greater good, but they are far too dangerous now."

Reluctantly, Cassandra nodded. "The Wardens are a risk. Send them away before they cause even more trouble."

“They might still be useful,” Dorian shrugged, “What if Corypheus conjures another Blight or another Archdemon rises? You never know.”

Erik had enough. “You stupid fucks,” he shouted. They all turned to him in shock.

“The Grey Wardens are literally the only ones able to end the Blight by killing the Archdemon, and there are still two more to go. If anyone else kills the Archdemon, it just reforms.” Hawke backed up in shock and blinked.

“I’ve told you all this already,” Erik continued, “Do you _want_ the next Blight to swallow the world? How would you like to be a Broodmother, Cassandra? Because that’s your fate if we send the Wardens away.”

They fell silent, and Erik moved over to his memory, still hanging silently in the air.

“There’s still his memory left,” Evelyn said, “Once he takes it, we get out of here and back to Adamant.” The group nodded and Erik grabbed his memory.

_It wandered the Fade for a long time. It met others like him, and it_ _learned and_ _grew. Then it learned of the other place from a kind spirit of desire_ _that took a liking to it_ _. Desire seemed to_ _suggest many of their kind wanted to go there_ _, but the wisp didn’t mind the place it was now. It was just curious. So it peered through the Veil._

_It saw things with four appendages fighting for their lives. Desire said they were humans and elves and dwarves fighting something called Darkspawn. That the mortal beings began to call it a ‘Blight’. Desire said seven of the mortals entered the odd thing at the center of it all and came back with the darkness within. That it happened just before the wisp came into being._

_The wisp and Desire watched the mortals for a very long time, and the wisp grew to respect them. They were determined to survive, even after countless defeats in battle. It saw mothers protecting their children from horror and death , warriors protecting their shield-brethren, and a group called Grey Wardens driving the things called Darkspawn back with nothing but sheer will. It watched as the mortals fought so hard against the old one at a place they called the Silent Plains that nearly half of them perished, but still the one they called Dumat was slain. It hurt the Veil._

_And the wisp realized it respected the mortals’ will. They all had it; sometimes it was broken, and that made it sad. But the rest drove on through hard lives on nothing but will and determination alone. Desire said it liked the way the mortals desired a better life for themselves. But the wisp liked the mortals’ will, and it became Will._

_Will and Desire became friends. They often watched the mortals beyond the Veil together. It watched a woman named Andraste change the world, on nothing but will alone. It was sad when she died. But her will lived on, and the man called Drakon took it for himself and revered Andraste. They began praying to her. Will didn’t quite understand, but the mortals seemed to follow Drakon and Andraste’s will. Will fed on their drive and grew stronger itself, grew more whole. It and Desire moved on for a time. Desire liked to play a game where she (Desire liked to be called she) would tempt the mages visiting their place and see if they could resist. Will respected the mages’ resolve; it was another form of willpower, after all. It grew stronger still on the mages that visited the Fade. It visited them sometimes, and spoke to them, but never tempted them. It was happy in the Fade, with Desire._

_Time passed in the mortal realm, which they called Thedas. Will watched the elves fall and the humans rise. It watched the mortals beat back Darkspawn time and again, and it strengthened him, the mortals overcoming both great and little struggles in their short lives. It watched Calenhad unite his land and watched the people struggle against the willful force known as the Qun. But the little people beat it back regardless, overcoming yet another struggle and living on as they always did._

_He and Desire wandered the Fade and met a mortal that was not a mortal. She carried a very old spirit with her, something that was vengeful and angry. But the woman seemed kind to him (Will decided to use him after he saw Calenhad) and Desire. She told him about times before he came to being, about the ancients and the wars they fought. But he felt like he knew it already, strange as it was. The woman known as Flemeth moved on, as did he and Desire._

_Together they watched Moira and Maric struggle together and desire for a better homeland. Maric carried his mother’s will and pushed the Orlesians back._

_He watched as another old one awoke in the mortal world, and he watched as a scared young man fell in love with a witch that knew of his kind’s ways. The young man was scared. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet he trudged on. Will decided to help him here and there; the young man and his acts seemed so familiar. Desire helped, too, giving both the young man and the witch little nudges, and soon enough they fell into each other’s bedrolls. It seemed to help the young man’s will to go on. He watched as he found the willpower to kill a god and the will to go on even after his love left him for a time._

_Will and Desire moved on to a woman they saw fleeing the Blight the young man ended. She had the will and desire to build a better life for her family, even after her baby brother was killed. She drove herself on after her baby sister caught the Blight and joined the order of willful warriors he had seen fight on through the darkest times. The woman drove on even when her mother was killed, and he gave her a little push when she almost lost herself. He felt like he knew what that was like. Desire helped, too, and gave her a push toward the brash pirate the woman had befriended. He was glad he and Desire gave little nudges because soon after she rose to the occasion and drove herself to strike down an invading force. And a few years later, she struck down one of the mortals that entered the city that floated in their home, that none of them ever dare entered. And then he watched as she willed herself to strike down a madwoman and save innocents from their deaths after her friend who was like them but unlike them forced his will on the mortals’ Chantry, and they watched as his will and desire for justice and vengeance spread across the mortal world until soon it became a fire._

_Will and Desire moved on from there, for there was nothing of note for a time. They eventually came upon strange mortal instruments. A bag for carrying things, clearly, and a strange instrument of metal. Will took them and examined them, for he felt like he knew them._

_And then he realized he_ did _know them, somehow. He thought about why he knew them, tried to think of what they were called. And then it came to him as he and Desire wandered the Fade._

_The metal tool was called a rifle, an instrument of war. But Thedas did not have rifles. He didn’t understand how he knew them. He looked through the strange bag and found a device and a piece of folded leather. It held a strange square with a portrait on it, and strange letters that he could read. It belonged to a man named Erik Andersen. He wondered for a time where he knew that name._

_And then he realized he knew the name because it was_ his _name. The bag and rifle were his. But where did he come from? He read further and realized the location was a land called North Carolina. Desire seemed to be worried for Will, but he was enthralled as the pieces came together._

_He remembered, now. He was once a man. Erik Andersen. His parents were Annette and Mikael Andersen. His mother died of cancer, his father committed suicide. He was a soldier and a proud and proficient member of Special Forces. He’d lost his best friend. He’d lost his love. That’s why he knew why the little mortals’ struggles were familiar. He had experienced his own struggles when he was a mortal. He had planned to end his life, when… something… came to him. They offered a way out, and he took it._

_And Will felt himself change. He was Erik Andersen._

_Desire became worried, but he told her not to worry as he began to flicker and fade. He felt a pull as he passed through the Veil, now a man once more, but never quite a mortal again. He didn’t quite understand what was going on._

_He found himself in a chamber. It was cold, the first sensation he’d felt in a long time. He shared the chamber with Grey Wardens, a Chantry woman in the air, and a woman standing next to him that could have been his sister in his old life._

“ _What in the hell,” he murmured. Then he caught sight of another figure, twisted and corrupted, and he recognized the figure. A twisted smile grew along his new lips. He remembered a term from his old life, long ago._

“ _Oh! Buenos dias, fuckboy!”_

The memory faded and Erik collapsed to his knees, trembling in shock, terror, and awe in what he had just received.

“Holy shit,” he said in a shaky voice.

“Sweet Maker,” Cassandra breathed, “You’re a spirit.”

“I… I’m a spirit,” he echoed, “Of will. That’s why Command recognized me. And that's why I'm immune to red lyrium. It has the Blight, and spirits are immune to the Blight, at least physically.”

“You… you gave me a push to keep going after my mother’s death,” Marian said in a trembling voice, “And your Desire friend pushed me toward Izzy.”

“Forget all that,” Dorian laughed in awe, “Erik has seen the entire history of the world. From the First Blight to the Mage Rebellion. Everything. He’s over a thousand years old.”

“Erik, I…” Evelyn trailed off as she knelt next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t know what to say. Are you… alright?

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” he admitted, “I mean, I knew stuff before, but now… I have so much knowledge. A thousand years of it.”

“In all my travels in the Fade and the waking world, I have never seen anything like this,” Solas murmured in shock as he ran his hand along his scalp.

“You were friends with a demon?” Bull asked.

“She was… is different. She’s probably still out there, honestly. She didn’t really want to possess people all that much, she just thought it was fun to tempt them. She much preferred nudging people toward their desires.”

“That’s still kind of fucked up,” Bull frowned.

“Erik and his Desire friend are spirits,” Solas defended, “It is in their nature to do so.”

“Why? How did this happen?” Evelyn asked. Erik swallowed to wet his dry throat and took another shaky breath as he stood up.

“Whoever I met sent me here,” Erik theorized, “And I think I died. I was reborn as a wisp that became a spirit of will. I think I latched onto will because… well, I was a willful person back on Earth. I had so much drive to get selected for Special Forces that I finished the process on a broken foot. I got injured multiple times in combat and pushed through it to kill our enemies and save my friends. When I became depressed, I was always searching for the will to live. I think it’s always been in my nature.”

Marian approached him, her lips trembling and her eyes watering. Erik watched her nervously, unsure of what her intentions were. Then she threw her arms around him and let out a small sob.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Erik awkwardly wrapped his arms around the woman.

“What for?” he asked anxiously.

“I always felt like there was an outside force that helped me go on after my mother died,” she cried, “And I always felt like there was an outside force that pushed me to Isabela. Now I know. Thank you. If it wasn’t for you and your friend, I would have lost the will to live and I would have never found the love of my life.”

“You did the same thing for the Hero of Ferelden,” Cassandra realized, as Hawke pulled back from the hug, “And Calenhad the Great.”

Erik shrugged sheepishly. “I always like giving people the drive to push on as a spirit.”

“You still do it,” Evelyn smiled, “You’ve been doing it the entire time you’ve been with the Inquisition.”

Erik thought about it and realized she was right. Nothing changed; he was just in a physical body now. They each lapsed into silence as they processed the memory, but it was cut short; movement began to echo off the rocks.

"Inquisitor," Hawke pointed, drawing her daggers and readying herself. More demons began pouring from the rocks.

The Divine returned and drifted upwards. "The Nightmare has found us."

The group steeled themselves as they all drew their weapons and faced down the demons. They hacked and slashed and burned and shocked their way through the horde, determined to get to the rift. And Erik felt their determination fuel him as he cut his way through the fearlings. Finally, the last demon fell and he cleaned his blades on a piece of spare cloth.

"Come," Solas waved us on, "Real or not, the Divine is the key to escaping from the Fade."

The voice returned. "Do you think you can fight me? I am your every fear come to life. I am the veiled hand of Corypheus himself. The demon army you fear? I command it. They are bound all through me."

If the spirit of the Divine could smile, it would be doing so. "Ah, so if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, every fear come to life."

The only response was a low, angered roar.

The spirit turned toward Evelyn. "You must get through the rift, Inquisitor. Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish this army of demons… and exile this cursed creature into the farthest reaches of the Fade."

Erik frowned. He wanted to kill the Nightmare, not banish it.

"Look," Evelyn pointed, "We're almost there."

"Great," Hawke said sarcastically, "Why don't you just dare the Old Gods to stop us?"

They came near the rift, and as they moved closer, it was blocked by the Nightmare. Erik stared upon it. It was worse in real life. He remembered hearing about it as a spirit, but never encountered it. It was an HP Lovecraft wet dream, with dozens of eyes and too many hairy spider legs, its fangs twisted, and extra fangs hanging from its mouth that dripped spittle and malice.

The spirit glowed and spoke in a sorrowful tone as it advanced on the Nightmare.

"If you would, please tell Leliana, 'I am sorry. I failed you, too,’" it requested. Then it struck the Nightmare, and it let out an unnatural shriek and was momentarily driven away. But its minions were not.

They drew our weapons and faced the demons surrounding them.

After arduous work, the last of the demons was struck down, and together they began to run for the rift. Erik, Evelyn, Howe, and Hawke led the advance, so close to the rift and to the physical world.

And then the Nightmare returned, fattened by fear and utterly corrupted and standing between them and freedom.

"We need to clear a path," Howe shouted, bow at the ready.

"Go, I'll cover you," Hawke said with determination as she gripped her daggers tightly.

Howe shook his head sorrowfully. "No. You were right,” he admitted with remorse, “The Wardens made this mistake. A Warden must –”

"A Warden must help them rebuild. That's _your_ job," Hawke shouted as she looked up at the Nightmare with hatred, "Corypheus is _mine_."

Erik turned and glanced at Evelyn. She had frozen, her eyes darting between her two comrades. She had come upon the greatest burden of command: letting one die to save the rest. And she wasn’t making a choice, because she couldn’t. Erik knew that; he could feel it now that he realized what he was. She didn’t have the will to make this call. The Nightmare began advancing on the exhausted and weary group, and Evelyn still hadn’t made a choice.

So Erik took a deep breath and made the choice for her.

He pulled his weapon from his back, shouldered his rifle, and sighted in one of the eyes, and squeezed the trigger. A _crack_ rang through the Fade as the eye exploded and the Nightmare screamed in agony. It turned on Erik in fury and began to advance on him. He put another round in another eye and stopped it briefly. Erik turned to Evelyn’s stunned face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Tell Leliana I love her more than life itself,” he called to her, his last request.

He put two more rounds into eyes, slowing the Nightmare but not stopping it. He would blind it eventually, but for now, he just needed to get his friends to safety. And his friends were not moving.

“Go!” he barked, “Before we all die!”

His friends ran for the rift, Cassandra looking full of sorrow and despair and Dorian looking completely helpless. Bull had to physically drag Evelyn through the rift as she wept, and Erik gave one last smile and salute. He took one last look at his friends as they flung themselves through the rift and sprinted towards the Nightmare. He saw the tear close out of the corner of his eye.

“Well now, little one,” the Nightmare said mockingly, “It is just us. Two ancient spirits. One from the dawn of time, one from the dawn of the Blights. Let us see who is the better, shall we?”

Erik didn’t respond, only firing furiously at the demon. And when he was done with the magazine, he unloaded another into the beast, and another, and another, until every last round was expended. He slung his rifle on his back as the Nightmare recovered from the relentless assault of bullets and drew his swords. And as he did, Erik began to feel different. Not a man, but not a spirit. Somewhere in between; no spirit within him, for he _was_ the spirit. Erik wordlessly charged the Nightmare as it reared up at him.

_I must not fear._

He slashed a leg off and rolled away from its fangs.

_Fear is the mind-killer._

Erik removed the fang that had attacked him and drove his shortsword into the Nightmare’s underbelly; one of its legs came to strike him.

_Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration._

He sidestepped the leg and lopped a sizable chunk off, tearing the demon’s flesh with the lodged shortsword as he ran toward the abdomen.

_I will face my fear._

Erik cut off the stinger and finished his tearing as viscera and internals began to ooze quickly from the long and deep wound.

_I will permit it to pass over me and through me._

One of the legs caught him in the side where his armor didn’t protect well, and he winced at the pain of his flesh tearing. Still, he pushed on.

_And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path._

The Nightmare turned and faced him, and Erik swung recklessly at the legs, cutting into them and shearing some clean off.

_Where the fear has gone there will be nothing._

It faced him with its great maw and surrounded him with its dozen front legs. The mouth opened, and Erik knew there was no way out but in.

“I’m about to Jack Sparrow the shit out of you, buddy.”

He lunged at the open mouth, and the fangs surrounded him and the maw allowed for nothing but darkness.

_Only I will remain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAljnUezZFk
> 
> I did it. I killed him off. I'm sorry, I didn't want to spoil anything by tagging this story with Major Character Death.
> 
> It has also come to my attention that I didn't tag this thing for the suicide mentionings and the half-baked attempt in this chapter. I have updated the tags accordingly.
> 
> If you have any questions about Erik's nature, now is the time.


	44. Misery's Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn grieves her brother's death and judges Erimond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bioware/EA own Dragon Age. This is a transformative work.

Bull dragged her from the rift a sobbing mess of regret and emotion. She didn’t even know how to react; it was as though her body had shut down. The Fade was horrible enough, being shown and told all her greatest fears and reliving not only her memories but Erik’s. And then to watch her brother face down the Nightmare…

Oh, sweet Maker. What was she going to say to Leliana?

As they were dragged out, a cheer rang up from the Inquisition and Warden troops surrounding her. But she couldn’t care less. She couldn’t really care about anything, just then. She supposed she could close the rift, though, shouldn’t she? So she looked through her watery vision to where the glowing green blob in the air was and she sealed it. It was then that Bull released her. All around her, she thought that maybe the soldiers were cheering still. She wanted to scream at them to shut up. To kill the first person that made even a peep and kill the rest if they protested. But she couldn’t do that She was the Inquisitor, she reminded herself, and that meant leading the people around her, whether she wanted to or not.

She thought she saw Blackwall and Cole come back with Vivienne, Isabela, and Varric, dragging the semi-conscious Erimond behind them. She thought of beating him like she had Alexius. But she didn’t have the energy to. She had just survived a harrowing situation that she only came out of alive thanks to her brother… who she had a hard time fully internalizing was dead.

"The Divine was right,” Howe said somberly, “Without the Nightmare to control them, the mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army. Though as far as they're all concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the Maker."

She snapped her head toward him. “My men can tell whatever stories they like. Get your Wardens out of my sight, Howe. I don’t want to see them again today. My ambassador will be contacting you in regards to a more permanent alliance.”

Howe’s jaw snapped shut and he merely nodded, rounding up the Grey Wardens and moving them out of the courtyard.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen called. She blearily looked up at him, too broken to even be happy he was alive.

“What.”

Cullen blinked. “Did something happen?”

“My brother is dead, Commander,” she snapped all too loudly and violently. A gasp of shock came from the gathered that were not in the Fade group. Evelyn scowled and pushed past him.

“Let me mourn.”

A knock came at her tent as dawn broke. She jerked her head from her blank, broken meditation and turned toward the closed but unshut flap.

“I said no visitors,” Evelyn shouted, “Take one step in here and I will burn you alive.”

“I just wanted to talk,” Cassandra’s voice came. Evelyn sighed and wiped her eyes. She stood, stormed to the flap, and threw it open with a frown.

“May I come in?” the Seeker asked her with a look of sorrow. Evelyn sighed and stepped aside to allow Cassandra to duck inside. She sat on the crate next to Evelyn’s cot and studied her as Evelyn flopped onto the edge of the bed.

Neither woman said anything for a while, Cassandra studying the ground while Evelyn studying the Seeker’s face.

“Well? You came in here. Did you have anything to say?” Evelyn asked coldly. The Nevarran gave Evelyn a sad look.

“I know what it is like to lose a brother, Inquisitor,” she told her with a hitch in her voice. Evelyn blinked.

“You’ve never mentioned this before,” she said. Cassandra merely shrugged.

“There was no reason to dredge up old memories before,” she explained with a sigh, “I was fourteen. Anthony had made a name for himself as a dragon hunter. A group of apostates wanted him to acquire them dragon’s blood, though for what purpose I never learned. He refused, and they killed him before my eyes.”

Evelyn stiffened in shock. “I’m sorry that happened to you… but these situations are hardly the same, Seeker.”

“They are more similar than you realize,” Cassandra shook her head, “The Champion of Andraste –”

“Don’t call him that,” Evelyn snapped, “Not here. I refuse to let him be diminished to a title he never used himself.”

The warrior gave her a nod. “Erik chose to sacrifice himself so that we may escape,” she said in a low, sad tone, “He cared for you so much that he chose to give his life to preserve yours.”

“No one should have had to sacrifice themselves at all.”

“It is war. Sacrifices will need to be made. Erik understood that, Inquisitor.”

Evelyn grew silent and refused to look at Cassandra. She knew she was right, but it didn’t make it any better. It still hurt, and knowing Erik was not going to be by her side for friendship or aid any longer made it worse. She still expected him to be there, making an off-color comment or warning that no one understood and he refused to explain. To know that he was gone was even more painful than she wanted to admit.

She took a breath and swore to herself that she would be stronger, more ruthless so that this would never happen again to someone she cared for. She would carve a wake of death and destruction across Thedas if it meant protecting a friend. Never again would she feel the sense of loss and helplessness she was feeling.

“I still don’t know know what I’m going to say to Leliana,” she admitted, “I don’t know how I’m going to tell her his death was my fault.” Cassandra gave her a sad smile and placed a hand on her knee in comfort.

“The fault lies squarely at the feet of Corypheus and the Magister that corrupted the Grey Wardens,” she reminded Evelyn, “Not you. Even Leliana will see that, no matter how much pain she faces.”

Evelyn let out a sigh, and after a few minutes, she gathered as much of herself as she could.

“Find Cullen for me. We need to get out of this desert,” she ordered. Cassandra nodded and turned to leave, but she turned back to Evelyn as she approached the tent flap.

“Do not let his death change you, Inquisitor,” she warned, “Erik would have not wanted it.”

“Erik is dead, Cassandra,” she responded bitterly, “And watching him die changed me. What his opinion would have been is no longer of consequence.”

The return march was plagued with a cloud of melancholy. Nearly everyone in Evelyn’s Inner Circle was feeling the emotional loss at Adamant, save for Vivienne, who was maintaining her air of superiority and seriously grating on Evelyn’s nerves without saying anything. Still, Evelyn refused to let her grief show on her face. Her soldiers needed the morale, as the war was far from over, and she needed to lie to them and show them that she was remaining strong. Yet her friends knew the truth of how miserable she was. Cullen knew how miserable she had become, as well. He had come to comfort her in her tent multiple times on the return trip, a gesture she had greatly appreciated but felt she had no way of returning.

She remembered, after the battle was over, that she had told him she loved him. But she felt as though there was no proper time to pull on that thread. Any way she could act on it would be haunted by the ghost of her brother, at least for a time. So she merely took his comfort graciously and let him hold her as she cried herself to sleep.

She saw Erimond once on the march. Chained in a cage, Ser Barris and two other Templars rotating to silence his magic, his eyes swollen shut from multiple bruises and lesions across his face; no one had bothered to heal the man after the battle, and for good reason. She felt a flash of fury run through her at the sight of him, arrogant even as he slept, and thought about how she would judge him. If she had to deny herself her own grief for the sake of the Inquisition, she could at least take her anger out on the man that had caused it all in the first place. So she began thinking of punishments for him.

Imprisonment would be too kind, and a burden on the Inquisition. Anything not directed toward the war effort was directed toward refugees, and a useless deadweight would not be tolerated in her organization. Labor, too, was unfeasible. At least one Templar would need to watch him at all times, or he would have a chance of escape… though she doubted that he would be able to go back to Corypheus after his failure at Adamant. And labor would not bring her satisfaction, and out of every person she’d judged as Inquisitor, he was one that she did not want his sentencing to bring justice. No, she wanted vengeance. She wanted to see him suffer in the worst way possible, in the longest way possible, until he either died or Evelyn bored of his suffering. She wanted to strip everything from him, and not just everything he owned. She doubted she would even have to do anything on that end; it was likely Archon Radonis would strip him of his rank and requisition his lands, holdings, and slaves if he had any. So all that would be left for her to do would be to strip Erimond of everything that he was. And there was only one way she knew how to permanently do that. A way that, until recently, she thought there was no way to reverse. She would use her own greatest fear against Erimond and make him a prisoner in his own body.

She ate with Hawke, Isabela, Varric, Dorian, and Bull that night. Dorian was, aside from Evelyn, Erik’s best friend in Thedas, and he had grown a rapport with Bull, as well. She had watched the two men grow closer as they had fought the war against Corypheus, and it seemed Bull’s severance of his ties with the Qun was the final straw that thrust the two together. She was glad to see it, even in the state she was in… but it made her think of Erik and Leliana, as well, and it made her mood darken even more than it already had.

“Inquisitor,” Isabela said carefully, “I know you’re hurting. And I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now. But Marian told me what happened in the Fade.”

“Everyone’s been told about what happened there,” Evelyn murmured. Isabela shook her head.

“Not just that. She told me about Erik’s memories. About how he saved her life during his time as a spirit and how his demon friend pushed the two of us together. And then he sacrificed himself to…”

Isabela sniffled and straightened in her seat. “I want you to know that I’m forever grateful for what he’s done. For Marian and myself. And that I’m going to honor his memory in whatever way I can.”

Evelyn studied the Rivaini pirate for a long time. She watched her squirm under her gaze and it made Evelyn wonder what had changed in her face. No one had become uncomfortable around her before. Perhaps she looked colder, now, after her experiences. She softened her face and gave a small smile.

“Thank you. It means more than you realize.” Isabela blinked and nodded, returning the smile.

“On a slight change of topics,” Bull’s voice rumbled, “Do you know what you’re gonna do with the Vint?”

“He deserves to have his head lopped off,” Hawke growled. Bull shook his head and stabbed a forkful of potatoes.

“I know his kind. He’s fanatical. Did you hear him rant the first time we encountered him? He was talking about being a god-king, ruling Thedas for Corypheus while he ruled the Black City. Erimond would want nothing more than to die and achieve glory and martyrdom,” he turned to Evelyn, “If I were in your shoes, boss, I wouldn’t give it to him. I can see it in him. It’s what he wants.”

“I wasn’t planning on killing him.”

“Well, then, what are you planning on doing with the son of a bitch?” Varric asked.

“It’s not like you can imprison him,” Dorian pointed out, “You’d need to keep a Templar on him or he’d just escape.”

“I don’t plan on imprisoning him, either,” she shook her head and pumped magic into the dying fire, bringing it to life once more.

“Well, then, what are you planning to do to him?” Dorian pressed. Evelyn shrugged.

“You’ll just have to see.”

They arrived at Skyhold seven weeks after the battle. Word had already been sent ahead that they had won the battle but had lost the Champion of Andraste, and there was an air of melancholic happiness in the air. Evelyn and the rest of the army were greeted in New Haven with cheers upon their return, but she was also greeted with sad looks, and condolences, and more than one person trying to take her hand and telling her that Erik walked in the Maker’s light from here to eternity. It made her want to cry, these people who she didn’t know trying to wish her that things were going to work out; they didn’t even know her, not really, and they certainly knew Erik. But she supposed they knew a grieving woman when they saw one and knew that she viewed the man from another world as her brother. She couldn’t be angry with them when they only meant well.

Several soldiers rushed to greet husbands and wives and children, sobbing into them as they completed the long march back to the mountain stronghold. She saw many more looking for their spouses and loved ones, and though it was painful to watch the ones that were greeting the soldiers after what she had lost, it hurt even more knowing that many of those waiting were doing so in vain. She felt herself inch closer to stone at the thought.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, they arrived at the lift, and Evelyn dismounted her horse and stood next to Cullen. She slipped her gloved fingers through his and leaned into his arm.

“I suspect the ride out of the Approach was easier than what I’m about to face,” she admitted, “Seven weeks was enough for the pain to begin diminishing.”

“I know,” he said softly, rubbing circles on her hand, “Just know that if it opens the wound again, I’ll be there for you. I’ll always be there for you.”

“You can’t promise me that,” she shook her head, “Not after what happened to Erik.”

“I… I know.” Evelyn bit her lip and looked up at Cullen.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked nervously, “I don’t know if I can get a quiet night’s rest without you there.”

Cullen stiffened, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of actually _staying_ in her quarters, regardless of whether anything happened or not. But after a moment, he relaxed and brought her hand to his lips.

“Of course,” he nodded, “I said it at Adamant and I’ll say it again: I love you, and that means making sure you aren’t alone for this.”

“Thank you,” she dug further into his fur pauldron, “I love you, too.”

They arrived at the bridge, and Evelyn felt her heart grew heavy. It seemed as though with every step she took, it grew heavier, dreading her encounter with Leliana more and more with each step she took toward Skyhold. Her feet grew heavier, and her hands grew clumsier. Her breathing increased slightly as the castle began to loom. Sound began to drop away until all that was left was the blood rushing in her ears, faster and faster still. Evelyn felt Cullen’s strong, large hand squeeze her shoulder slightly in reassurance, and sound began to return to her, her heartbeat falling slightly. Suddenly, Cole was at her side. He gave her a small smile.

“It’s going to be okay,” he reassured her, “Erik loved you, and he loved Leliana. You can help each other through this.”

Cole was right. She was going to help her spymaster through the loss, and it was going to help her. She took a deep breath and stepped into the courtyard.

She was not greeted by Leliana, or Josephine, or one of their scouts, runners, or associate ambassadors. She was not even greeted by Morrigan. She was met by Kieran, who looked up at her with sad, inhuman eyes.

“Mother and Lady Josephine are with Sister Leliana,” he informed her, “She knew what happened as soon as the box opened. They’ve been taking care of her ever since.”

Evelyn blinked at the young boy. Of course, Leliana would have known. Evelyn should have remembered about the box that would open on Erik’s death. She would have known for weeks now. Evelyn wasn’t entirely sure what to say to him in response, so she merely gave him a smile and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Kieran,” she said, “Are they in her rooms?” Kieran nodded, and despite the pool of dread in her stomach, she flung herself up the stairs. She met Morrigan on the way up the tower, coming up with a tea set.

“Ah, Inquisitor, you’ve returned,” she greeted her, “Kieran greeted you in the courtyard?” Evelyn nodded.

“Is Erik dead, then?”

“Yes. He was left behind in the Fade,” Evelyn sighed with misery.

“The Fade?” Morrigan blinked, “You fell physically into the Fade?”

“We did, and were faced with a demon known as the Nightmare,” she explained as they climbed the last few sets of stairs, “It was blocking the rift that returned to Adamant. Erik volunteered himself to stay behind and hold it off.”

“Ah. You have my condolences,” the witch said softly, “Leliana was holding to false hope that the enchantment in the rune merely failed, despite my assurance that it would not have. Lady Montilyet and I have been seeing to her since the box opened.”

Evelyn stopped Morrigan before they entered the rooms. Morrigan gave her a look of questioning and Evelyn sighed.

“Why are you helping Leliana?” she asked, “From your own account and that of Leliana’s and Erik’s, you were at each other’s throats when you traveled during the Blight. Why console her now?”

“War does strange things to people, Inquisitor,” she explained with a far-away look that one only gains through great toil, “Those who dislike or even hate one another grow close when thrown into combat together. I may not agree with her naive views on her Maker, but I have fought for my life alongside her. I will not see her suffer more than I have to.”

Evelyn looked down at her boots, feeling stupid to have even asked the question, but Morrigan continued.

“She is also my husband’s good friend,” the witch tried to cover up her own caring, “'Twouldn’t be right for me to spit on that.”

They opened the door, and Evelyn saw Leliana on the bed, sniffling softly as she clutched a cloak to her chest, the one she stole from Erik the first time the two had gone down to New Haven together. Josephine was by her side, running her hand along her back and saying soft words of comfort. Morrigan spoke up.

“Leliana? The Inquisitor has returned. She’s here to see you,” she said softly. Leliana’s head jerked up, her eyes red and inflamed and her face wet.

“Please tell me he’s just outside the room,” she begged in a wavering, watery voice, “Please tell me the enchantment on that damned box merely failed and I’ve been mourning all these weeks for nothing.”

Evelyn was suddenly reminded of the story Erik had told of losing his best friend to war. How he had come home and tried to tell his friend’s widow how he had died but ended up breaking himself. And she cursed the Maker for mirroring the memory in the moment she was faced with. She felt her face grow wet, and she choked on her words momentarily, merely a croaking sound emerging.

“Leliana, I – I’m so sorry, I…”

Evelyn didn’t finish her sentence; before she could, the Orlesian’s face twisted into a horrible, heart-wrenching visage. Fresh tears began to stream down her face, and her mouth opened but no sound would emerge. Her chin fell to her chest and she began to collapse to the bed. Josephine’s eyes welled up, too, as the back of her hand came to her mouth and her shoulders trembled. Evelyn moved as quickly as she could without the aid of magic and wrapped her arms around Leliana, despite the fact that she hadn’t bathed in weeks. Morrigan placed the tea set on a table and came toward the bed, as well, as Evelyn’s tears began to fall into her red hair.

And then the Bard let out a song of despair that would wake the dead.

It took Leliana hours to spend all her tears, and Evelyn nearly as long. When they were both empty, Morrigan brought each of them a cup of tea, reheated with her magic, and they drank slowly, soothing their torn throats. Small sobs still escaped Leliana here and there, as well as the occasional hiccup, but she had mostly calmed and had resigned to merely sitting with the three other women and accepting their comfort.

“How… how did he die?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

Evelyn explained everything, from the battle to their fall into the Fade. She told her how Erik had tried to make sure the mood was as light as it could be in the grim situation and how both she and Erik had recovered their memories. She explained how Erik was truly about to attempt suicide when an entity that Evelyn was certain was the Maker intervened and sent him to Thedas. She told him how he had died and was reborn as a wisp that grew into a Spirit of Will that watched over the world through all nine ages until he recovered his personal items and remembered who he was, becoming human once more and returning to his human form. And she explained how he died protecting the others in the group that had fallen into the Fade, ensuring their escape.

“He wanted me to tell you that he loved you more than life itself,” she quoted her brother, tears threatening to flow once more.

“You didn’t see him die,” Leliana mumbled, “You closed the rift before he clashed with that demon. He could still be alive. You don’t know he’s dead.”

“Leliana, he’s gone,” Evelyn said sadly.

“But you didn’t see him die! He could have survived.”

“Don’t you think I want to believe that?” Evelyn asked, “He was my brother. He made me who I am today. I wouldn’t be half the leader he is without him. He was there for me whenever I broke apart, stumbled, or doubted myself. I would want nothing more than to have him here with us, to hear him speak again, or to have him fight by my side, protecting me while I protected him. But you didn’t see the Nightmare. It was _huge_. Three times as big as any dragon, at least. If he found a way to survive, he’s still in the Fade, and it’s literally infinite. He could be anywhere by now. He’s gone to us, Leliana.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, another sob escaped her and was washed down by tea.

“I have to go,” she said lowly as she stood, “I need to bathe, and then I need to judge Lord Erimond. Josephine, I’ll need you for that.”

Josephine gathered herself and nodded. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

“I’ll stay with Sister Leliana,” Morrigan assured them. Evelyn nodded her thanks and began to leave. She turned back toward her Spymaster before she left.

“Leliana, there’s one other thing,” she said, “The spirit of Divine Justinia wanted me to pass on a message. She says ‘I’m sorry, I failed you, too.’”

Leliana blinked. “Oh.”

“I don’t know if that means anything to you…”

“It doesn’t,” she shook her head, “But thank you.”

Evelyn nodded and turned to leave.

“Make sure you kill that man,” Leliana requested.

“I intend to do much worse,” Evelyn assured.

She sat upon the cold, metal chair, raised above all else in the hall. She supposed she cast an imposing figure, a furious mage on a throne, about to pass judgment on a war criminal. There were certainly more than a few nervous faces and uneasy whispers passed through the court as Evelyn simmered on her throne. For once, she felt no weight on her shoulders. She knew the man she was about to judge was more than deserving of his sentence.

She felt her rage grow as Erimond was brought into the hall by The Iron Bull and Herah, flanked by two Templars. Both kossith had looks of fury on their faces as the chained little man thrashed about in their grasp. He eyed Evelyn and gave her a smug look as they steered him toward the throne upon the dais. They threw him to his knees with more force than was necessary and stepped back, and the whispers grew silent as Josephine stepped forward.

“I submit to you Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium,” Josephine announced, “Who remains Loyal to Corypheus. We found him alive, offering _extreme_ resistance, likely because the Grey Warden Order has asked us for his head… in more colorful terms… to say nothing of justice you might personally require for what was suffered in the Fade. His formal charms are aiding the enemy of Thedas, attempted murder, summoning, Maleficarum, and Crimes Against Thedas.”

Evelyn looked down at the poor excuse of a man. “Countless better men and women than you are dead. My brother included. Why shouldn’t I make this quick?”

He took a step forward, prompting Herah and Bull to ready their weapons. “I recognize none of this proceeding,” he mocked arrogantly, “You have no authority to judge me.”

Josephine smiled wickedly. “On the contrary, many officials have communicated that they will defer to the Inquisition, and by extension the Inquisitor, on this matter. Archon Radonis has informed us that he stripped you of your rank and title, as well as your holdings and personal funds when he learned of your involvement with the Venatori.”

“Because he fears. Because they all fear,” he laughed, “Not just Corypheus, but Tevinter, the rightful ruler of every piece of ground you’ve trod in your pathetic life. I served a living god. Bring down your blades and free me from the physical. _Glory_ awaits me.”

Evelyn growled. He had just dug himself a deeper hole. Evelyn thought for a moment, her mind as clear as it could be as she thought about the sentence she was about to pass. Since death was validation for him…

“You are the worst this world has to offer. The worst we as mages can offer. The damage you have done is beyond all reckoning. You nearly destroyed our only defense against the Blight and attempted to summon a demon army into the physical world to wreak havoc and fear in the name of a man that broke into the Black City. Your actions led directly to the death of the Champion of Andraste, my brother and closest friend.

“I swear on my honor and my life, I will only use this sentence once, and I do not bring it lightly. A Mage’s crime, a Mage’s punishment. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, I deny you the death you so deeply want,” she paused and took a deep breath, “Tranquility.”

A gasp of shock echoed from the crowd. Josephine took a step back, her eyes wide. Cullen balked at her but quickly recovered. She could see Vivienne smile approvingly on the balcony above, even as Dorian gaped in horror next to her. Even Marian, flippant about most things that happened around her, seemed utterly dumbfounded at the sentence. Bull and Herah smiled wickedly as Erimond began to panic. They grabbed his arms, and he tried to cast a spell, but it was nullified by the Templars flanking him.

“You… you cannot!” he ranted in a high, shrill, terrified voice, “I am a _lord_ , you pissants! I will not lose myself!” He continued to rave as he was dragged from the throne room. Evelyn rose from her throne and looked at Cullen.

“Commander, do we have the necessary materials required to perform the Rite of Tranquility?"

He nodded grimly and squared his shoulders with a nod. “We do, Inquisitor.”

“Bring them,” she ordered, “This will be done now, in the courtyard. His countless crimes and the gross misuse of his gifts will not go unanswered.”

Evelyn stormed out of the great hall as the gathered nobles began to speak in shocked and panicked voices. She scoffed to herself. Of course, they were panicked. They had _heard_ of the Rite, and of its effects, but had never actually _seen_ it done. Few had, in fact, not even she. It was a fate worse than death, everyone knew, something so evil that it was only spoken about in hushed whispers, even amongst non-mages.

“Inquisitor, you cannot!” Fiona had grabbed her shoulder, attempting to stop her from leaving the hall, “We started the rebellion because –”

“I know why you started the rebellion, Fiona,” Evelyn snapped, “But you didn’t see what he did at Adamant. He, out of all mages, deserves this.”

“I am begging you, please do not do this,” Fiona warned, “I don’t know if my people will support you if this happens.”

“This is happening, Fiona. This is the last time this is happening. Erimond is going to be Tranquil.”

She stormed out of the great hall and up the steps of the platform that was made in case Evelyn planned on executing Erimond. Bull and Herah were still holding him and the Templars were still with him as he foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog and ranted about a living god and his nobility, his eyes darting to and fro wildly as he looked for a way out that was not present.

A ring of enchanted lyrium in the shape of a sun was brought to her in a small box.

“Will I be made Tranquil if I touch it?” she asked.

“You will not, Inquisitor,” he reassured her.

“Good. Give it to me,” she ordered, “I’m doing this myself.” He handed her the box.

“Press the brand to his forehead for thirty seconds,” he explained, “As you do so, the former members of the Order will suppress his magic. He will be Tranquil thereafter.” Evelyn approached Erimond, glowing brand in her right hand.

“If you have any words, Lord Erimond, now is the time.” He simply spat at her. Bull grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, keeping it in place as she pressed the brand to his forehead. Erimond let out a shriek of terror that could have opened a rift as his mind was slowly burned away. It kept going and going, longer than she thought a man could scream, but slowly it faded, as did the fear and hatred from his eyes, leaving behind an empty shell, a husk that was once Livius Erimond. Evelyn took the brand away from his forehead and handed it back to Cullen.

“Destroy that thing,” she ordered sternly, “I never want to see it again.” He nodded and handed it off, repeating the order. Evelyn turned to the Mages, who had gathered in the courtyard and were looking on in shock and terror.

“Know that I did this as a last resort,” she explained, her voice raised so all could hear, “Livius Erimond’s crimes were unprecedented. He attempted to destroy the most selfless organization this world has to offer, use the corpses in a blood magic ritual to summon an army of demons into Thedas, and hand the army to a Darkspawn Magister that would have used it conquer the world and achieve godhood. I will never pass this sentence again.

“By the authority of the Inquisition granted to it by its allies and the late Divine Justinia V, I hereby declare that the Rite of Tranquility is banned from use as a punishment or preventative measure,” she decreed, “The mages of Thedas will not live in fear of their will, emotions, and gifts being forcibly removed from them, nor will another mage ever again be burned away and made a shell of their former selves.”

Evelyn turned and stormed into the castle and up to her room, leaving stunned silence in her wake.

A knock came at her door an hour later as she stared at the numbers lost at Adamant. Nine hundred, worse than she’d hoped but better than she’d feared. She looked up from the casualty list and sighed.

“Enter.” Cullen came up the stairs with a look of shock on his face.

“Did you just ban the Rite of Tranquility as a punishment?” he asked in shock.

Evelyn nodded as he stared intently at the wood grain of my desk. “It has proven more trouble than it is worth. I won’t have those we are sworn to protect living in fear that I might do the same to them as I did Erimond ten minutes ago.”

“I’m not disagreeing with your declaration,” he defended as he moved toward her, “I just thought I’d never see the day. I’ve seen the Rite used too many times as a deterrent against mages acting of their own free will.” Evelyn let out a breath full of stress and dropped her head into her hands.

“Did I do the right thing, Cullen?” she asked. He put a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?”

“I just destroyed everything a man once was and turned him into an emotionless being that’s only half alive,” she droned, “Mostly because his actions led to Erik’s death. I don’t know if I did the right thing.”

“The right thing? That depends on who you ask,” Cullen shrugged, “It was certainly the just thing. I have never seen a man so deserving of the brand. He had proven a threat to the entire world. And you just made it so that no mage will ever have to suffer it again. I’d say you more than made up for your use of the Rite.”

Evelyn reached for him without looking and he approached and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her upright. She listened to his heartbeat for a few minutes in silence and then broke away and gave him a kiss.

“Thank you,” she whispered. He pressed his forehead into hers and she closed her eyes, basking in his warmth.

“For you? Anything,” he reassured her.

Evelyn and her advisors sat in the War Room the next day, Erik’s box before them. Leliana was still a wreck, her eyes puffy and red as she wore Erik’s old cloak. She had apparently refused to leave it for six weeks since it smelled so much like him. It hurt Evelyn to see her in such a state, and her own pain was mirrored internally, but she pushed it down for the sake of the Inquisition.

“We’re gathered because Erik left a will,” Evelyn informed them, “Among other papers whose contents I’m unsure of. We need to read his will, and if he wrote any notes to anyone personally, we need to give them to the individuals in question, who should all be in this room.”

The advisors remained silent, and Evelyn opened the box, finding a paper sealed in dark green wax, bearing the signet she had made for him but he had never used before. On it, in sharp, neat writing, was ‘The Last Will and Testament of Erik Baldr Andersen of Thedas’. She grabbed it and broke the wax, folding it open and clearing her throat.

_If you are reading this, I’m probably dead. If I’m not, chances are the reader is either Leliana or Charter, as they are the only two in Skyhold that could possibly crack open the seal on this box without dying. If that is the case, put this away. If I was killed, please kill my killer back. If I died doing something monumentally stupid or setting something on fire, I went out doing what I loved._

_Anyway, this is going to act as my last will and testament. There will also be writings I have left behind that contain a warning of what's to come. I hope you, the reader, use this sparingly, as preemptively acting on each of these things may change them for better or worse._

_I have worked with Dagna to create this box. This testament shall be placed in the box along with a set of prophecies or warnings, and upon my death, untimely or not, it will open. I have also written one personal note each for Sister Leliana, Lady Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan, Arlessa Morrigan Cousland of Amaranthine, and Lord Dorian Pavus of Minrathous. They can be found just beneath this will in the box._

_In the event of my untimely death, all my worldly possessions are to pass to Sister Leliana, save for my rifle if it was recovered with my body, which is to be passed to Arcanist Dagna. The remaining papers in this box, except for the ones labeled for specific individuals, are to pass to Lady Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan for safekeeping._

_In addition, I would like to add that when laid to rest, I would like my body to be loaded onto a pyre at night, placed on a longboat, sailed out onto a lake or sea, and shot with a thousand burning arrows. If a thousand arrows seem unfeasible, please think bigger. If you can't think bigger because there's not enough room in that head of yours, dear reader, a hundred will be acceptable. In the event that my body is unrecoverable, a shroud will do just fine._

_Now, in regards to the future: this box will *not* contain anything regarding your war against Corypheus, Inquisitor. It will only contain things that I have been preparing for since my first day in Thedas. How you use these warnings and when you read them is up to you. Before this is finished, however, I will impart to you a warning regardless of whether or not you read the other papers._

_Do not trust Solas. If you listen to nothing else I say, I beg you to listen to this. Do not trust Solas. I will not say more than that, for fear of dangerously upsetting the flow of time and alerting him to your mistrust. Act as friendly as you always have to him, but do not trust him, no matter what you do. He has secrets that will burn the world, but he will reveal these to you all in time._

_I'm sorry I couldn't be here with all of you and see this trial through to the end, but I know you'll accomplish your goals without me. I wish it did not end this way. There is a song from Earth that explains it well:_

_"Just by looking through your eyes,_

_He could see the future penetrating right in through your mind._

_See the truth and see your lies,_

_But for all his power couldn't foresee his own demise."_

_I love you all. May you be in heaven for half an hour before the Devil knows you're dead._

_-Erik Baldr Andersen._

Leliana burst into tears as soon as Evelyn finished reading the will, and she quickly put her arm around the grieving woman.

“It seems Erik truly did think of everything,” Cullen said with sorrow. Evelyn nodded and removed the personal letters he had written before closing the box.

“That he did,” Evelyn murmured, tears threatening to work her way out of her eyes as a lump grew in her throat, “Josephine, deliver these to their recipients. Leliana, go get some rest. I’ll check in on you in a little while.” She nodded and sulked out of the room, and Evelyn turned to Josephine.

“Write to Caer Bronach. Charter is to be recalled to Skyhold and will serve as acting Spymaster until Leliana has recovered,” she ordered.

“You’re taking her job? She’s already lost Erik,” the Antivan balked.

“No, I’m taking the pressure of her massive spy network from her shoulders until she’s recovered. Leliana will return as Spymaster when she feels able to do so, but she’s in no state to work right now.”

Josephine nodded. “Of course.”

“Both of you, out,” she ordered, “I need to read this letter and deliberate whether I want to read these warnings Erik left me.”

Her Commander and Ambassador nodded and left the War Room, and Evelyn sighed and broke the seal on her letter, preparing herself for tears as she read the first line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Misery's Crown by Dark Tranquility - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WqQFXpqsAqM
> 
> Erik's will quotes The Clairvoyant by Iron Maiden toward the end - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-3ra8Jsmjk


	45. One Thousand Burning Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik's funeral is held. Aedan plans his group's return to civilization. The Artist Formerly Known as Blackwell reveals himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters and dialogue from the games are owned by Bioware/EA. This is a transformative work.

Evelyn sat at her desk, thinking deeply about what she had read. It had been a week since their return, and she had read and re-read both the letter and two of the predictions Erik had made at least a dozen times. Some of it was unnerving at the least, world-shaking at the most, just like he had warned about.

Her letter didn’t have anything mind-bending in it. Just a reassurance that she would succeed. There were, however some confusing bits. A warning to watch out for the spread of red lyrium, a warning to watch out for complete silence from Weisshaupt, and a heavy, heavy emphasis on not drinking from ‘the Well’, some elven artifact she would come across in time. He repeated that at least three times and urged her to find someone else outside the Inquisition to get to drink from it.

She’d also read the papers labeled  _ Jaws of Hakkon _ and  _ The Descent _ , both of which were shocking, to say the least. She was actually correct during their drinking game: lyrium was blood, specifically the blood of a being known as a Titan, which she would encounter ‘when the earthquakes start’. She had no idea what that meant, but she was rather disturbed by the idea that all magic was, technically, blood magic. The  _ Jaws of Hakkon _ paper was shocking for a different reason. Her predecessor, Inquisitor Ameridan, was Dalish. There was also something about one of the Avvar gods being shoved into a mortal form and Evelyn needing to kill it, but she didn’t know enough about Avvar culture to panic about it. Besides, she already had one would-be god to kill. She could deal with a second when it came up.

There were three other letters in the box, as well. One was named _ Predictions and Prophecies  _ and one was called  _ The Tragedy of the Dread Wolf, Fen’Harel. _ But those two, shockingly, did not catch her attention nearly as much as the third. The third paper, sitting just beneath the papers named  _ The Descent _ and  _ Jaws of Hakkon _ , was simply called  _ Trespasser _ and was by far the longest of the three letters. Beneath its name, Erik had left a cautionary note that read, ‘ _This paper details the final days of the Inquisition as Thedas currently knows it. Reading this will completely upend the way the reader currently sees the world and its nature and has dangerous implications for the future of everything and everyone._ ’ As tempting as it was to tear them open and pore over them, Evelyn chose not to read any of the three remaining letters and hid the box away, silently reflecting on what Erik had left her.

After an hour or so of silent reflection, a knock came at her door. She called for the person to enter, and Josephine climbed the stairs into the room.

“Inquisitor,” she greeted nervously, “The funeral is ready. All are gathered in the valley by the lake, and the lake has been thawed.”

Evelyn nodded and stood. Immediately after she had read Erik’s funeral request, she had ordered a longship constructed and a shroud sewn. The lake, too, she had ordered thawed, with the mages working on shifts to melt the icy mass of water. Some may have called it a frivolous waste of resources, but she didn’t care what people thought; Erik wanted to be laid to rest with a longship and a thousand flaming arrows, and she was going to respect his wishes to the letter. She had also authorized Captain Adaar’s Hunters to wear a beret similar to Erik’s, though a deep blue color instead of his dark green, seeing as he had aided in its formation. They were acting as his funeral guard that night. She and Josephine left Skyhold as twilight fell, the massive fortress as eerily quiet as the day she had first stepped foot in it. The lift, too, was silent, save for the clanking of the chain as she descended into the valley. She marched to the snowy shore of the now thawed lake, where a longship waited in the rocks. A low pyre was built inside it, already covered in oil, and as she approached, Hawke and Varric unfurled a shroud bearing a golden embroidery depicting the eye and sword of the Inquisition with Erik’s rifle in front. Cross arrows, the symbol of his old Special Forces unit, sat above the eye and sword. The shroud was draped over the pyre and weighed down with stones.

Evelyn approached Cullen, who stood in front of a unit of one thousand archers, Adaar’s Hunters among the ranks, easily identifiable with their new berets. Herah herself stood in the front, her massive longbow held near her waist. Sera stood next to her, her face sorrowful but stoic. The rest of the Inner Circle flanked the archers, the mages among them prepared to cast spells of fire to light their arrowheads aflame, as were Fiona and her mages. The Tamassran Erik had taken a chance on, too, stood quietly, cradling her newborn as he slept in her arms. She smiled gently at the Tal-Vashoth woman; she had thrown herself into educating the youth the Inquisition protected as soon as she had learned the language. Her eyes swept along those gathered and her smile fell. Leliana stood to the right of the archers, silently sobbing into a handkerchief and wearing Erik’s cloak as she was comforted by Josephine and Morrigan. Kieran stood by his mother’s side, a knowing look on his face as he stared at the longship.

“He would say he was happy this was his funeral if he was here,” Cole said, suddenly by Evelyn’s side. She no longer jumped at his appearance; he had been more active amongst the Inner Circle since Erik’s death.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“‘The ship lies gently on the waves, as day turns into night,’” Cole sang softly, “‘One thousand burning arrows fill the starlit sky.’ The most metal funeral he could think of. The way his ancestors were laid to rest. Like the pagan warlords of old, before the Christians came and destroyed what they were.”

“So this was the way the people of his ancestors’ culture were laid to rest,” Evelyn concluded.

“Some of them. Others were buried in mounds with their belongings. Their reincarnations would claim them when they came,” the spirit explained, “Erik was proud of you. ‘The best Inquisitor I could have hoped for. The best sister I could have asked for.’”

Evelyn smiled sadly as a tear escaped her eyes. “Thanks, Cole.” She turned to the gathered thousands, military and civilians, dwarves, elves, and humans, refugees and volunteers alike. She took a deep breath and prayed she would do her brother justice.

“We have gathered to lay the soul of Erik Andersen to rest,” she boomed, “The man known as the Champion of Andraste came to us from another world. He was a soldier, a prophet, and a man I grew to regard as a brother. He was as kind as he was skilled in combat, as smart as he was strong. He came to us as a gift from a being I could only conclude was the Maker Himself. He treated everyone he met with the respect they deserved and viewed all as equals. He seemed to be made of will itself and strove each and every day to make this world he found himself in a better place. He saved my life on countless occasions and made me the woman and leader I am today. For that, I will forever be grateful.

“Erik Andersen was taken from us protecting the innocent and the just. He gave his life willingly so that the Grey Wardens could survive to protect the world from the Blight. His death was a direct result of Corypheus’s schemes, and he fell in battle with an ancient demon known as the Nightmare. His body may rest in the Fade, but I know his soul walks with the Maker. He, of all I have known, deserves eternal peace, and I will respect his final wishes to be laid to rest as his ancestors of his old world were.”

She paused to take a breath and look out among the stoic faces of the crowd.

“We all owe the Champion of Andraste a debt we can never repay. May he walk in the Maker’s light in Paradise from here to eternity.”

Evelyn nodded to Cullen. Together, she, Cullen, Dorian, and Iron Bull pushed the longship into the water. It floated gently along the small waves and Evelyn watched as it made its way into the center of the lake. When it reached the center, she nodded to Herah, who stood at attention and took a deep breath.

“Archers!” she barked, her voice one of command and confidence, “Nock!”

In unison, the archers placed an arrow on their drawstrings and leveled their bows.

“Light!”

The mages shot bolts of fire down the ranks, lighting the tips of the arrows.

“Draw!”

They drew as one and aimed into the darkening clouds.

“Loose!”

One thousand burning arrows filled the starlit sky. They trailed along, not a single arrow going out, until each and every arrow hit their mark on the longship. It instantly went up in flames, climbing high into the sky. Evelyn heard Leliana moan in sorrow at the sight, but Evelyn couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of the longship being engulfed by the purifying light. They stood silently for nearly an hour as they watched it break apart and burn to ashes, and Evelyn thought about the man she was laying to rest.

She had known Erik for less than a year, and in that time he had given her more love, motivation, and caring than her family ever had. She felt like he had made her laugh more than she had her entire time in the Circle. He had helped build the Inquisition from nothing and had fought alongside her valiantly, never questioning a single decision she had made. Only support and encouragement from the man. He had even pushed her to a man she was terrified of and made her realize Cullen had love to give her, as well. She would be forever grateful to him for that alone.

If things went well and she stayed with the Commander, she promised herself she would name her firstborn son after Erik.

Eventually, the ship began to sink into the frigid water, and one by one, the Inquisition began to leave. The Inner Circle was the last to stay on the lakeshore. But even they, too, had to leave. Together, the sixteen of them strode through the dark streets of New Haven and climbed onto the lift back to Skyhold.

“I say we drink together tonight,” Bull offered, “Honor Erik’s memory. It can’t be all doom and gloom. He wouldn’t have wanted that.”

Evelyn nodded. “I agree. Leliana? You feel like you could join us?”

She wiped her eyes and nodded. Evelyn wrapped her arms around the grieving woman and hugged her tightly.

“Good,” she said softly, “Let’s go. To the Herald’s Rest.”

Evelyn glanced back to the lake below them one last time. She saw the last bit of flame go out as the remnants of the longship sank into the depths.

* * *

Aedan crossed the small stream and sighed heavily. He adjusted the deer on his back and approached the camp, knowing that his friends could sense him through their abilities.

He thought about the relationship between the four of them. He was worried that they would trust him less after he explained how he survived the Archdemon, but they only trusted him  _ more _ after he explained himself. They said it was because he was keeping less secrets. It was a shockingly good turn of events, even if they were a little wary of his son now. He dropped the deer carcass and Velanna took out her skinning knife.

“Alright, Aedan, where in the Void are we?” Oghren burped, “You know I hate being lost. Remember last time we went into the Deep Roads without a plan?”

“These aren’t the Deep Roads, Oghren,” Sigrun deadpanned, “And we know where we are.”

“Really? Because all I know is that we’re on Urthemiel’s Plateau. That’s not a very accurate location.”

“Give me a minute,” Aedan grunted, grabbing his map from his pack and pulling out his navigation tools, a gift from Isabela the last time he met the Hawke family when he became Bethany Hawke’s Warden-Commander.

“Didn’t you get those from that pirate captain?” Velanna asked as she skinned the deer, “Where is Bethany, anyways? I thought she would be with us.”

“She’s with the rest of the Fereldan Wardens,” Aedan explained, “I didn’t trust them enough to go on this journey, but when the false Calling started, Marian Hawke’s friend Aveline volunteered to hide them in Kirkwall, since she’s apparently the Guard-Captain of the city. Once we get back to civilization I’ll send a message to her and let her know it’s safe for them to come out of hiding.”

“She took them in after Anders?” Sigrun asked skeptically. Aedan froze.

“Anders was insane and wasn’t really a Warden by the time he blew up the Chantry,” he said in a monotone voice, “I should have never let him go in the first place. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Hey, don’t get all morose on us,” Oghren grunted, “You had no idea he’d get so wacko.”

Aedan sighed. “You’re right,” he shrugged, going back to mapping out their location. He glanced up at the sky and found the South Star, the one point of light in the sky that didn’t move. He used his sextant to judge its angle and then glanced back at the map. Sixty-two degrees, meaning…

“We’re three days out from the Western Approach,” he concluded, “Maybe three and a half if we’re slow.”

“Fuck that place,” Velanna grunted as she threw the skin over the fire to dry it out, “That broodmother in the Abyssal Rift the Orlesians didn’t know about was a bitch to kill. The Qunari one?”

“Oh, I remember,” Aedan sighed, “It was guarded by at least forty Ogres.”

“Thank the Stone you drank Avernus’s potions,” Oghren laughed, “We’d be dead otherwise.”

“Don’t forget that spirit. The one of Will?” Sigrun reminded the drunken dwarf, “It gave us all a little push.”

“I remember it,” Aedan nodded grimly, “It said it knew me. Was watching me all through the Blight. Kind of creepy. It was like having a spirit stalking me.”

They fell silent for a time, waiting for the deer meat to cook over the fire. Eventually, Velanna spoke up.

“So what’re we thinking when we hit the Approach?” she asked, “Just make a rush through it?”

Aedan shook his head. “No. It’d make more sense to stop at Adamant. There shouldn’t be anyone there and it’d allow us to rest in a fortified location.”

“There should be no one there because it’s abandoned,” Sigrun pointed out.

“Only because the Orlesian Wardens don’t have the manning to occupy it,” Aedan pointed out, “We’ll rest there for a couple of days and then we’ll go on to Val Chevin and meet up with the Wardens there.”

“Sounds like a plan. The safer we are on the way back, the more likely I can see my boy again,” Oghren burped around a mouthful of ale. Where he got it, Aedan had no clue. The dwarf seemed to have a magical ability to find alcohol wherever he was.

Still, the drunken dwarf had a point. He was itching to see his son and his wife again. He missed them so much it physically hurt him to think about it, but he couldn’t resist concentrating on the rosewood band around his finger and feeling for his witch.

* * *

“Bull, I have a job for you,” Evelyn said, finishing up the pile of paperwork in her chambers. The horned man stood before her desk, stoic and determined.

“Whatever it is, me and my boys can handle it,” he reassured with confidence. Evelyn nodded. She always liked Bull, and she felt more at ease around him now that he was free from the Qunari.

“I need you to destroy Adamant,” she explained, “The Veil was thin there before the battle; it’s practically lace now.”

Bull nodded. “Getting rid of it will help keep spirits and demons from pressing against it. Should help keep it from tearing. And it’ll keep the Venatori from using it as a base,” he paused, “I’ll bring along some of that gaatlok Erik gave you guys. Should make it an easy job.”

“Good. You’ll leave tomorrow,” she paused, “How are you doing? With everything?”

“You mean the Tal-Vashoth thing or the Fade thing?”

“Both, I suppose.”

Iron Bull sighed and sat down. “You know, I think I was just scared of being Tal-Vashoth for the sake of not having a place. I know myself, and I know how to keep from going mad,” he scratched under his eyepatch, “But it was still a big change, you know?”

“Of course,” she agreed, “But you’re a free man now. You’ve already made a name for yourself with the Chargers, and you still have them.”

“That’s the thing,” he pondered, “I think I lied to myself when I formed the Chargers. Said it was to keep up the image of being a Tal-Vashoth… but the truth is I wanted a family. A place where I belonged. And I didn’t find a place, so I made a place.”

“Well, I’m proud of you,” Evelyn smiled, “And the Fade?”

“Fuck the Fade,” he grunted, “I never want to go back there. I hate demons, and to have them pry into my mind and show me my greatest fears…” he shuddered.

“But we fought them. We overcame them.”

“That we did,” he agreed, “What was that litany Erik said? Fear is the mind-killer. Facing your fear is better than running from it. You’ll be free from them afterward.”

Evelyn nodded. “I thought the same thing,” she paused, “Well. I have work to do. It was nice speaking with you.”

“Anytime, boss,” Bull nodded, “I’ll get my boys ready for the ride out to the Approach.” He stood and saluted before leaving.

Not five minutes later, Charter climbed the stairs and entered her rooms on deathly silent feet.

“Charter,” Evelyn greeted as she poured a glass of brandy, “How is Leliana?”

“She’s a wreck,” the elf admitted, “It’s a good thing you recalled me. She’s in no position to run a spy network.”

“Do you think she’ll recover?” Evelyn asked nervously.

“Give it time, Inquisitor,” Charter sighed, grabbing a glass for herself, “Sister Nightingale just lost the man she wanted to start a family with. As hard as she is, that would break anybody… Maker knows I would be the same way if I lost Tessa.”

“You’re with someone?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “I suppose telling you wouldn’t hurt anything, since you’re not my enemy. We’ve only been with each other for a short time, but I love her deeply. I will say no more than that.”

Evelyn nodded, recognizing they had steered into private territory. She changed the subject.

“What do you have for me?” she asked.

“We’re closing in on the location of the Eluvian,” she informed her, “Lady Morrigan was correct. It is somewhere in Southeastern Orlais, though the vegetation in the Arbor Wilds is making it rather difficult to pore over the region.”

Evelyn sighed. “Just make sure your agents find it before Corypheus does. Is there anything else?”

“Just one other thing,” Charter said calmly, “Warden Blackwall is gone. He left a note and went to Val Royeaux for the execution of a man named Cyril Mornay. I suspect Blackwall is not the man he claimed to be.”

Evelyn was climbing the stairs before Charter even finished talking.

She rode to Jader as fast as she could with Varric, Sera, and Cullen. After a short, tense voyage, they arrived in the port of Val Royeaux and entered the markets, where they were met with a rather large crowd and a gallows. A man stood, bound and dejected before the noose. The hangman began reading the man’s crimes as they approached.

"Cyril Mornay. For your crimes against the Empire of Orlais,” the executioner read, "For the murders of General Vincent Callier, Lady Lorette Callier, their four children, and their retainers..."

Evelyn stopped. The man killed children? A deplorable act, but what did it have to do with Blackwall?

The hangman continued. "You are sentenced to be hanged from the neck until dead. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

The criminal said nothing, merely hanging his head in defeat and acceptance.

"Very well." They began placing the bag over his head and led him to the noose as the crowd jeered.

"Poor bastard," Sera shrugged, looking around in the stalls, "So. Where's food? Orlesians always stock these things."

The murderer was roped and the noose tightened. Just as Evelyn began to conclude that the execution had nothing to do with Blackwall, his voice rang out from the other side of the crowd.

"Stop!" The crowd went completely silent, and the hangman froze, staring wide-eyed at Blackwall climbing the gallows.

"A Grey Warden!" he gaped in awe. Blackwall’s face twisted in resignation and defiance.

"This man is innocent of the crimes laid before him,” he declared, “Orders were given, and he followed them like any good soldier. He should not die for that mistake."

The hangman crossed his arms and stared at Blackwall. "Then find me the man who gave the order."

The pieces began to fall together for Evelyn. She surged forward through the crowd.

"Blackwall!" she called as she pushed through the shocked onlookers. Blackwall caught her eye and his face fell.

"No. I am not Blackwall," he admitted in defeat, "I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead and has been for years. I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am."

He took a breath, and Evelyn realized who the man that called himself Blackwall truly was. She froze as a stunned Cullen met Evelyn on her left.

"It's over. I'm done hiding. I gave the order. The crime is mine." He stood straight, his face full of determination and resignation, but also relief.

"I am Thom Rainier."

  
  


Evelyn waited in the cells until the guards cleared her to speak to Blackw – Thom Rainier. It had been two days since the reveal, and she was still reeling. She was waiting on the report from Charter to arrive before she made a decision.

Finally, the guards cleared her and she approached the cell. He looked defeated, sitting in the cell with a pitiful expression. Evelyn tapped against the bars.

“Blackwall,” she called with authority, “What happened? Where is the  _ real _ Warden Blackwall?”

He sighed. "I didn't take Blackwall's life. I traded his death," he said with a broken tone, still staring at the cobblestones, "He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But a good man, the man he was, wouldn't have let another die in his place. Erik… Erik’s sacrifice showed me that. I couldn’t sit idly by and watch another man die in his place."

Evelyn sighed and thought about what she should say. What she truly thought. She admitted to herself that she was not a perfect person. She had killed people, some in cold blood, in the name of saving the world. She had made a man Tranquil to fulfill her rage and fury.

"You saved that man,” she finally said, “That took courage."

Thom Rainier laughed bitterly. "Courage? I killed innocent people… destroyed Mornay's life and the lives of others like him. One moment of courage will not make up for that."

He finally raised his head, and Evelyn had never seen such broken eyes in a person.

"Why are you here?" he asked in an empty voice.

"I needed you to know you aren't alone in this," she said sadly. Evelyn would not let a man who fought and bled by her side rot in prison, no matter his crime. And if his crime was irredeemable, she wanted to judge him herself.

"Don't you understand?,” he stood and slammed his hands into the bars, rattling them, “I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing. When it came to light, I  _ ran _ . Those men,  _ my _ men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man. This is what I am. A murderer. A traitor… a monster." He fell to his knees and his head slumped to his chest.

Evelyn backed up and took a deep breath. She was beginning to understand the depth of his crime, but even when she knew she should be angry, should be furious and full of contempt and disgust… all she felt was empty.

"I know you're more than what you say,” she hissed, “Have some faith in yourself."

Rainier didn’t respond. Evelyn shook her head and went to find Cullen. She knew enough time had passed for the report to arrive.

"Charter has delivered us the report on Thom Rainier," Cullen informed her. Evelyn sighed and leaned against the cold stones of the prison.

"Give me the overview," she ordered.

Cullen nodded. "Looks like our friend was once a respected captain in the Imperial Orlesian army. Before the civil war, he was turned, persuaded to assassinate one of Celene's biggest supporters. He led a group of fiercely loyal men on this mission and told them nothing of it. His men took the fall for him. A few lucky ones, like Mornay, managed to escape."

"Let me guess,” Evelyn sighed, “Our spymaster had this lying around somewhere, didn't she?"

"You know Leliana is… indisposed at the moment,” Cullen reminded her, “Charter was the one who gathered the information in the report. Before that, it would have been difficult for anyone to connect Blackwall to Rainier. Even Leliana has something of a blind spot when it comes to Wardens”

Cullen sighed and braced his arms against the table. “What do we do now? Black – Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don't have to. We have resources. If he's released to us, you may pass judgment on him yourself."

Evelyn sighed. She wanted to curl up in Cullen’s arms, to let go of being Inquisitor for just one day… but she knew that couldn’t happen at the moment. She sighed.

"If it were up to you, what would happen?" she asked. Cullen’s temple pulsed and his eyes filled with rage.

"What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable,” he bit out, “He betrayed their trust, betrayed  _ ours _ . I despise him for it." The Commander paused and thought for a moment.

"And yet he fought as a Warden,” he admitted quietly, “Joined the Inquisition. Gave his blood for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?"

"He wanted to change,” Evelyn suggested with a shrug, “To prove that he'd really left his past behind, he had to face up to it."

"Saving Mornay the way he did took courage. I'll give him that,” Cullen sighed, "But I can't tell you what to do. Even  _ I _ don’t know what to do.”

Evelyn fought herself for a moment. A part of her wanted him to rot in prison for what he did, to die for his actions… and yet Cullen was right. She had just said it herself. He wanted to change. He wanted a second chance. And then something clicked in Evelyn’s head.

“Erik must have known about this,” she realized.

“I suspect he did,” Cullen agreed, “And the fact that he didn’t reveal Blackwall’s crimes immediately was telling. With all he knew, especially about the Wardens and their secrets, there’s no possible way he didn’t know who that man truly was. Perhaps he hoped you would release him and judge him yourself.”

Evelyn nodded. "Write to Emperor Gaspard. Have Rainier released to us."

"On your word, Inquisitor,” the Commander accepted.

  
  


Evelyn sat once again on her throne, this time not filled with anger, but disappointment as Thom Rainier, the man formerly known as Blackwall, approached her chained, willingly and without an escort. Gaspard hadn’t thought for a moment before giving the order to release Rainier into the Inquisition’s custody. He was a member of the Inquisition, he said, and the Inquisitor had the right to judge the man that fought by her side while he lied through his teeth.

Josephine was surprisingly calm and collected as she spoke.

"For judgment this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall. His crimes," Josephine’s eye twitched briefly, "Well, you are aware of his crimes. It was no small expense to bring him here, but the decision of what to do with him is now yours."

Evelyn hated her throne. She hated being Inquisitor. She hated everyone that gave her so much power; the power to start wars or end wars, the power to take lives and spare them. She especially hated that she had the power and the ‘right’ to judge a man that she considered a friend. A man that she trusted with her life in combat, while others could barely trust their neighbors to not steal their family’s food on a cold winter night. It was all too much for one person to handle. She felt older than her twenty-eight, nearly twenty-nine years.

"I didn't think this would be easy, but it's harder than I thought," she said with a sorrowful frown.

He shook his head, his eyes full of despair. "Another thing to regret" Rainier brought his head up and looked her in the eyes, "What did you have to do to release me?"

"Lady Montilyet petitioned to Emperor Gaspard," she explained, “He agreed to have you released into our custody.”

"And what happens to the reputation the ambassador has so carefully cultivated?" he asked with disdain, "The world will learn how you've used your influence. They'll know the Inquisition is corrupt."

"I wish there'd been another way, but my options were limited," she tried to explain to no avail.

"You could've left me there!" he barked, "I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it? What becomes of me now?"

Evelyn sighed. She couldn’t judge a man she once considered her friend. “I recuse myself. Blackwall intended for you to join the Wardens. I will honor that intention. The Wardens will decide your fate. You will join them as soon as they are able to take you, but even after you join their ranks, you will serve with us. The Inquisition still needs you.”

He sighed. “As you command.”

“Blackwall gave you a chance to atone through action, not merely punishment,” Evelyn added, “I find I can do no less.”

Rainier stood straight. “I am grateful for this, Inquisitor,” he nodded, “And I will serve for as long as I can.”

Thom Rainier gave a bow and turned. Captain Adaar unshackled him, and the man walked out of the hall, once again prepared to give his life to atone for the ones he’d taken unjustly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for One Thousand Burning Arrows by Amon Amarth - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KvuCAFzPgIY
> 
> Cole also sings some of the lyrics from the song while speaking with Evelyn.
> 
> I shamelessly ripped the funeral from the lyrics of the song. No, I don't care. This song is awesome.
> 
> The part about burial mounds is true. Longship funerals were rather rare in Viking culture. They were reserved for those of high honor or high rank. Even then, they were often buried in mounds with their ships; burning a ship was rare. The best account of it is from Ahmad Ibn Fadlan, an Arab scholar and merchant who traveled with Vikings during the 10th Century. His accounts are the basis of the novel "Eaters of the Dead" and its film adaptation "The 13th Warrior".


	46. Atoma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Cullen assault the Shrine of Dumat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert boilerplate disclaimer here.

Blackwall – or Thom Rainier, rather, returned to duty despite the sideways glances and whispers thrown his way. His old hideaway in the barn was still his, though Dennet kept a bit of a distance, from him, Evelyn noticed. She still wasn’t sure what to make of him – a murderer who showed genuine remorse for his crime and killed his old self to build something better. But she couldn’t focus on that. While he readjusted to his duties and came to terms with himself, she had to prepare the raid on Samson’s headquarters: a ruin known as the Shrine of Dumat. She’d put it off for far too long with Adamant, Erik’s death and subsequent funeral, and Blackwall’s sudden disappearance and subsequent reappearance as Rainier. Cullen had insisted he go along with her to the Shrine, which meant battle plans for when they inevitably confronted the bulk of Corypheus’s forces at the eluvian, wherever it was, would fall to his higher-ranking officers. She would have to take a company with her, as well, and Cullen had decided on the Hunters since they had the most experience on silent, fast-moving raids from their very first mission as a unit. Cullen had also elected to use the doctrine Erik had used for approaching the fortress, both for combat in small rooms and for raids. Evelyn shook her head and gave a small, sorrowful laugh. It always seemed to come back to Erik, in a way. He’d even left a schematic for a breaching tool in his personal effects, something called a halligan, or ‘hoolie tool’. It took some convincing from Leliana for her to turn it over to Harritt and Dagna, but she finally relented. Evelyn didn’t have the heart to order her to turn it over.

She checked on the woman every day. She normally didn’t leave her rooms, even for meals. They were normally brought to her by a servant. Evelyn saw that she was getting better, day by day; the first weeks after Evelyn broke the news, she said hardly anything and she normally found Leliana weeping softly, reading over either one of Erik’s journals or cradling her nug he had bought her or clutching one of his few personal items. She was still rather quiet and almost hollow, but the Orlesian woman cried less and less as the days went on, often times staring into the mountains or lying in her bed with an empty look, her meals rather untouched save for a few nibbles here and there. She drank little, too, and bathed less regularly. It was as though she were having a hard time finding the will to do anything. Evelyn didn’t know if there was a word for it in Thedas, but Erik certainly had a word for it. She felt his emotions, or lack thereof, in his memories, and if she had seen it in action, she would imagine it would have looked how Leliana did. Depression. She was depressed.

Evelyn sighed and decided it was time to check in on her. She climbed the stairs and stood before the door to what had once been Erik and Leliana’s chambers. The door to Erik’s room had been removed and the wall between the once separate rooms was installed with a door once their stonemasons had determined it wasn’t load-bearing. She knocked; when there was no response, Evelyn let herself in and found Leliana sitting upright in bed, nothing but a thin chemise on and cradling her nug, Fudge. The two women’s gazes met briefly and Evelyn gave her a sad smile before the other woman’s empty stare fell to the sheets again. The Orlesian’s eyes were puffy and red, as though she had been crying recently, bags sat above her cheeks, and her hair had grown out from its usual bobbed length – another sign to Evelyn that she hadn’t been taking care of herself as she should. She told herself that she should probably do something about that, but even in the state Leliana was in, Evelyn was still a bit scared of her. She sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand on the bedsheets above the Spymaster’s calf.

“You look like you’ve had a rough morning. Are you doing alright?” she asked gently. Leliana scoffed and shook her head.

“It seems I haven’t been alright for some time now,” she murmured before pausing, “I had a dream last night.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What about?”

“I saw Erik. He came to my bedside, with a woman. Hair black as night, eyes violet. Half like Morrigan, to be honest. He told me everything would be alright. There… there was someone else there.”

“Someone else as in demonic?” she pressed nervously. Violet eyes sounded like a desire demon, and she briefly made the assumption it was Erik’s friend from the Fade but pushed it aside.

“No, not a presence,” Leliana corrected, “There was a woman standing behind Erik and the other woman. Yellow eyes. Like Morrigan’s. White hair shaped like dragon’s horns. I swear, I’ve seen her before. She said something to Erik, and I don’t remember how he responded, but it made her laugh. That laugh sends chills down my spine just thinking about it.”

Evelyn pursed her lips. “Well, you aren’t a mage, so you have nothing to worry about with demons constantly haunting you,” she reassured, “Not the same ones, at least.”

“I wouldn’t mind it if it meant seeing him again,” the Orlesian murmured. The Inquisitor sighed. Not exactly the response she had hoped for. She pushed on to why she had come.

“I’m riding out with Cullen and Captain Adaar’s company today,” she informed her, “We’re hitting the Shrine of Dumat. I’ll likely be gone a couple of weeks. Josephine and Morrigan will still regularly visit you, but I want you to get some sunlight. Take a walk in the garden.”

“It isn’t the same anymore,” Leliana deflected.

“Take a few walks. Even if it’s with Josephine or Morrigan,” she gently ordered, “It’ll be good for you, in more ways than one.”

After a long moment, Leliana nodded slightly. Evelyn smiled and pressed her lips to her crown.

“I have to go,” she said, “If you need me at all, even to write, you can send a raven. Scout Harding has set up a camp a day or so from the Shrine.”

They rode as quickly as they could with over a hundred people. She had elected to take Dorian along due to his knowledge of Tevinter, as well as Sera, who had participated on the raid of Therinfal Redoubt. Despite his expert affinity for ancient ruins, she dared not take Solas on such a key mission – she knew from Erik’s numerous warnings that he was not to be trusted, and her reasoning for taking Dorian over him was sound. She would have taken Cole, too, but he was acting strangely after Adamant. Solas promised he would look into it, and Evelyn trusted him on that, at least. Hawke and Isabela tagged along, as well, citing a need to ‘get the fuck out of this blighted castle.’

They stopped four days from Harding’s camp, in a small town called Parendale on the Nevarran side of the Orlesian-Nevarran border. Their company split amongst the half dozen inns or so in town, and though Herah elected to stay with her men and Sera with the horned woman, Evelyn, Cullen, Dorian, Marian, and Isabela all stayed in the same inn. They ate together around a rather large table, speaking in hushed voices.

“Odd that a place called the Shrine of Dumat wouldn’t be in the Silent Plains,” Isabela commented.

“Be glad it isn’t” Dorian huffed, “Most of the area is still Blighted after the Battle of the Silent Plains, and that was… what? Eleven hundred years ago, now?”

“Oh,” Hawke laughed, “Well, then. Staying far the fuck away from there. I wouldn’t want to be the third Hawke that wound up with the Blight. That would just be a curse, by then.”

Isabela grunted. “Yeah, that’d be some shit luck,” he turned to Evelyn, “So. Erik leave anything behind telling us what we’re walking into?”

Evelyn shook her head. “The only thing he told me of the war with Corypheus was a warning not to ‘drink from the Well’.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Any idea what that means?”

“No, but apparently he left Morrigan the same warning,” she sighed, “So I’m assuming it’s something we’ll find with the… thing we’re after in Orlais.”

“Ah. So, an elven artifact, then?” Marian asked, “I could probably get my friend down from Kirkwall to help with that. If it’s an ancient elven artifact, she’d been interested. Dalish type. Sweet as honey. Mostly harmless girl.”

“Mostly?” Cullen asked, “How is Merrill ‘mostly’ harmless? She’s completely harmless.”

“She’s a blood mage,” Isabela laughed.

Cullen nearly choked on his lamb. Evelyn raised an eyebrow at Hawke and Isabela.

“You expect me to bring a blood mage into the Inquisition?” she asked sharply.

“We wouldn’t be suggesting it if she were going to harm anyone,” Hawke assuaged, “I’ve never seen her use it on anyone. Worst I’ve seen her do is use it to get rid of a barrier blocking a path and fix an eluvian.”

“That wouldn’t even be considered blood magic in Tevinter,” Dorian pointed out. Evelyn sighed. If Erik was so adamant she not drink from this well and he didn’t offer an alternative, she supposed it could work.

“What about Solas?” Cullen pointed out quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the ‘blood mage’ thing. Evelyn shook her head.

“Can’t trust him,” she turned to Hawke, “Write to your friend when we get back to Skyhold. Tell her we’d like her expertise on elven culture and artifacts.”

Hawke nodded and went back to her lamb.

“You’re really letting a blood mage into the Inquisition, then?” Cullen asked disapprovingly.

“Well, if you want to get technical, Cullen, all magic is blood magic, apparently,” she sighed, “Since lyrium is apparently the blood of some being called a Titan.”

He growled. “I really wish you didn’t tell me that.”

“Wait,” Dorian held up his hand, “It’s _what_?”

They arrived at Harding’s forward camp, hidden from view in a crag of rock. The Shrine could be seen on the horizon as the sun began to set. Evelyn, Cullen, and Herah met the dwarf and sat down before a small desk.

“What do you know?” she asked. Harding grimaced.

“There have been no patrols of the area,” she informed the Inquisitor, “No one in, no one out. At least, none we have seen. But there’s a problem.”

“When is there not?” Adaar scoffed. Harding shrugged acceptance at the comment.

“What’s the problem, Harding?” Cullen asked tiredly.

“The entire shrine is infested with red lyrium.”

Evelyn winced and glanced at Cullen, whose jaw clenched.

“We brought enough gaatlok to level half of Skyhold,” Adaar informed her, “We can breach, snag whatever we need quickly, and then detonate the red shit.”

“That won’t work if we’re facing a force as large as our own,” Cullen grunted.

“You aren’t,” Harding shook her head, “The Shrine itself isn’t very large. You’re facing a platoon, two at most, and that’s only if they dug more than three spans underground. And with how hard this rock is, that isn’t likely.”

“We’ll get organized, then. Thanks for the information,” Evelyn nodded, turning from the dwarf. Adaar left to inform her company, leaving her alone with Cullen.

“Captain Adaar’s preliminary plan is sound,” he advised, “Breach, clear, take it all with us and blow the place sky high.”

“I’m not worried about that, Cullen,” she sighed, “I’m more worried about you.”

“Me?”

“We’re walking into a building filled to the brim with red lyrium. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he brushed off. Evelyn grabbed his arm.

“Don’t bullshit me, Cullen,” she gritted with concern, “I have professional as well as personal reasons to avoid seeing you hurt.”

He sighed and gazed at the darkening horizon. “I’ll admit, I’m more anxious than before, but if I begin to feel affected worse than everyone else, I’ll inform you.”

Evelyn leaned around to examine his face, searching his eyes. They were darting around quickly, his pupils blown more than they should have been in the darkness. She gave a small laugh.

“No, you won’t,” she said with a wave of soft anger as she walked away, “Stubborn ass.”

She let the rest of her team know about the situation inside the compound. To say they were happy would be a lie, but they grit their teeth and prepared nonetheless. Adaar approached her as she finished the quick brief.

“Got a plan together, Inquisitor,” she informed her, “I’ll bring three platoons in. The last one will pull security on the outside of the Shrine, just in case we’re walking into an ambush. We’ll have a few blasting charges prepared if we need to blow our way in, then we’ll clear the Shrine room by room. I’ve given a description of Samson to the guys that haven’t seen him before. Ordered my boys to take him or the Tranquil alive if possible.”

“We have ladders,” Sera pointed out, “Why not just scale the walls like at Therinfal?”

“We would have done that, but if it’s really all red lyrium by now, it’s too risky,” Herah paused and grinned, “Plus, I _really_ want to blow something up tonight.”

Evelyn nodded. “Alright. Let’s get to business. Get your men together, Captain.”

“Already done, Inquisitor. Just say the word.”

She turned to her group and spoke with coldness. “Kill everything that isn’t Samson or Tranquil. There is no mercy.”

They moved swiftly and silently. There were no guard towers, not even added ones, and red lyrium lined the tops of the walls. The platoon designated for security fanned out and took positions, taking as advantageous positions as they could in the flat landscape of the plain. Evelyn began to march up to the front gate when Sera grabbed her shoulder and shook her head before nodding at Herah’s company. They were lining up in groups of four on either side of the front gate, with Herah and her Dalish second in command the second in each stack. Herah checked the gate. When it was locked, she tapped the top of her head with a closed fist and the fourth person in her stack, a dwarf, moved forward, grabbing a small bag of what she assumed was gaatlok. He knelt and attached the bag to the chained gates with a string before lighting the wick and moving back into formation. There was a moment of tension as the only sound in the air was the hiss of the wick. Then it exploded with a deep _pop_ , and the two stacks moved in through the gates. As they swung open, each group veered sharply to the sides, moving along the walls while the rest of the company moved through in two-man groups. Evelyn’s group was last through.

Fires were burning sporadically and the courtyard was eerily deserted. The two groups from the company had split up and flowed up two identical flights of stairs, taking high ground as they moved deeper into the courtyard. Evelyn’s eyes darted around, prepared for a fight.

"This is it," Cullen murmured, "The heart of Samson's command."

"I don't see him anywhere," Evelyn responded as quietly, "Or anyone, for that matter."

"Nor I," Cullen grimaced and adjusted his sword grip, "Maker, tell me he hasn't fled..."

“Left in a hurry if he did,” Sera pointed out, “Fires everywhere. They’d be out if it was later. He’ll have left somethin’ behind.”

“Let us pray he did,” Cullen winced. They moved further in and were met with more silence. Just as they moved past a dragon statue midway through the courtyard, Dorian grabbed Evelyn and pointed. She squinted her eyes. There, in the distance, were figures moving in the shadows of the entrance to the shrine proper. She readied her staff just as she saw the Hunters on the walkways do the same.

Shrieks broke the night, and the archers began loosing arrows. Red Templars poured out of the shrine and into the courtyard, at least a dozen of them. Nearly half were dead within seconds, the lethality of the veteran company rearing its head as they brought down enemy after enemy. Evelyn and Dorian began throwing spells as Sera began shooting, while Cullen readied his shield and advanced onward.

“Leave some for us, ya fuckers,” Sera shouted over the din. Evelyn froze three Templars for Cullen to shatter them with his shield. Dorian had a group cowering in fear, easy prey for Adaar to cleave through with her greatsword. Cullen was proving disturbingly effective, clearly using his knowledge of what used to be his armor to bring down Templar after corrupted Templar. As he brought down a third in what seemed as many seconds, a heavy rumbling sound was heard.

“Behemoth!” someone shouted as it quite literally burst through the stones in a rage. Evelyn and Dorian began throwing as many spells as they could after it as the warriors around them moved in. Just as they did, a second Behemoth barreled through the jagged opening the first had cut, bellowing as it did so. Cullen rushed forward with a grimace and slid beneath the second, slashing at one knee and bashing his shield into the second. It let out a grunt and collapsed, allowing for others to move in and begin hacking away at it. Herah buried her greatsword deep into the side of the first just as a dwarf wielding a maul and laughing maniacally wound up for a swing, crushing the helm of the second Behemoth with a thud. The courtyard fell silent and Evelyn moved quickly toward Cullen while the Hunters checked for wounded.

“How are you doing?” she asked through adrenaline. He let out a huff and popped a knee.

“Fine. Let’s keep moving,” he dismissed. Evelyn studied him momentarily. He was sweating and his eyes were unfocused, though from combat or the lyrium she couldn’t say. She nodded as the company flowed into the shrine, bows already twanging and metal clashing. They moved through the gaping hole where the front door once was. Fires were burning inside, as well, and as they moved through the ancient structure, Evelyn kicked debris and swung her staff toward a pair of distant Red Templars beneath a rather large red lyrium crystal. It broke from the pillar and crushed the foes.

This place is already half-destroyed," Dorian pointed out as he shocked a Templar attempting to hide in the shadows.

Cullen growled and glanced around. "Samson must have ordered his Templars to sack his headquarters so we couldn't."

"Someone tipped off the baddies, then," Sera pointed out through shots, “We’ve got a spy in the Inquisition. Or we ran into one on the road.”

"I think you're right,” the Commander sighed, “Still, we've dealt Samson a blow."

“Fuck you!” Evelyn heard Herah shout, and then the Shrine was silent save for the crackling of flame and labored breathing. Evelyn and her team moved into the final chamber. The instant they stepped through she became nauseous. There was red lyrium everywhere, seemingly humming as they moved in. Someone in Circle robes was slumped against the red lyrium by a table. She moved forward, prepared to cast if it was a trap.

"Hello, Inquisitor," the man greeted in a monotone voice.

Evelyn blinked. "You know me?"

Cullen knelt near the man, looking pale. "It's Maddox. Samson's Tranquil," he paused, studying Maddox, "Something's wrong. I'll send for the healers –"

"That would be a waste, Knight-Captain Cullen," the Tranquil interrupted emotionlessly, "I drank my entire supply of blightcap essence. It won't be long now."

Well. There went that idea. "We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox," she tried to explain, beginning to worry about the pallor of Cullen’s skin.

"Yes. That is what I could not allow. I destroyed the camp with fire,” he explained calmly, “We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape."

"You threw your lives away?" Cullen barked erratically, "For Samson? Why?"

"Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again," Maddox began to slide down the crystal and his voice grew quiet, "I… wanted to help..."

Cullen remained kneeling, studying the dead man as if he would say something more. Evelyn gently lay her hand on his shoulder and he jumped slightly, jerking his head around. His pupils were completely blown, the amber in his eyes gone, and the black clouded and unfocused.

"We should check the camp,” he swallowed, “Maddox may have missed something."

“We’ll handle it, Cullen,” she said gently, “Get yourself out of here.”

“I’m fine, I –”

“You _aren’t_ fine,” she snapped, “You need to get away from this stuff. We’ll do a thorough search and egress. Meet up with the security platoon and rest. We’re done.”

He blinked, his eyes becoming focused briefly. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

He stood and left the heart of the shrine. Evelyn watched him leave and turned toward Herah and her team.

“Turn this place upside down,” she ordered, “We have ten minutes. Gather everything that isn’t bolted to the ground and isn’t horribly tainted with red lyrium. Keep any of the red stuff in bottles or cases, plant gaatlok where it needs to go. And grab Maddox’s body. We need to lay him to rest.”

Adaar nodded and began barking orders to her company as Evelyn and her team began gathering everything on the table before them.

It took them eight minutes. They came out with mountains of intelligence that hadn’t been burned, including Maddox’s tools. It was almost as though Maddox intentionally prevented things from burning. There was even a letter for Cullen written by Samson. It was mostly taunting and incoherent rambling, with no real substance. She burned it in her hand as she left. It would do Cullen no good to read it in his state and she wanted him to suffer no more than he had already.

They returned to the scouts’ forward camp, where Cullen was sitting in a chair, his armor off and a cool towel around his neck. His eyes were closed as the company approached, and he opened them as Evelyn began ordering crates organized.

“Well? Was this fruitful, at least?” he asked tiredly. Evelyn sat next to him, worry gnawing at her insides. His eyes were no longer unfocused and his skin was returning to its healthy shade, if still a bit pale.

“First, I need to know how you’re doing,” she asked, getting a little too close and earning more than a handful of sideways glances and a smirk from Dorian and Sera both.

“Much better, now that I’m away from the stuff,” he admitted, “I had no idea it would be that bad in such concentration. It was _singing_ to me.”

“Erik mentioned something like that when he raided Therinfal,” she murmured, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you. What did we find?”

“A lot,” she gestured around, “Mountains of unburnt paperwork… and Maddox’s tools. The whole set.”

Cullen’s eyes lit up and he sprung from his seat, marching over to them. Evelyn followed as he grabbed the tools and looked them over.

“Dagna should be able to make sense of them," he murmured under his breath before carefully setting them down, "If Maddox used these to make Samson's armor, she could use them to unmake it."

He snatched Evelyn into an embrace before planting a brief kiss on her lips. He broke apart with a grin and a laugh.

“We have him.”

The moment was ruined by the charges exploding from the shrine, causing everyone to jump slightly.

“Give us a warning next time, you nug-brained asshole!” Adaar barked at the demolition man.

They returned to Skyhold quickly, carrying each and every piece of equipment and intelligence with them; Harding dared not send copies back and Evelyn agreed with her decision. It was the largest cache of knowledge on Corypheus’s forces they’d found; they couldn’t risk a bird being intercepted. The return journey took five weeks in total, and when they returned, the Hunters began unloading crate after crate of papers and scrolls and taking it up into the rookery.

“Get those tools to Dagna,” she ordered, “Tell her they’re Maddox’s. I want her at work on a countermeasure as soon as she’s able.”

“What is all this?” an Antivan-accented voice asked from behind her. Evelyn turned to find Josephine watching the proceedings with confusion. Leliana was by her side, cradling Fudge as she napped. Her hair had not been cut, but she at least looked as though she had cared for herself more. The bags under her eyes were largely gone and she smelled of incense and candied roses, meaning she was bathing regularly again. The dead look in her eyes was still there, however.

“This is all from Samson’s headquarters,” Cullen informed her as he handed off the tools, “It was a gold mine. More intelligence than we could have hoped for, as well as Samson’s Tranquil’s tools. We’ve got the bastard.”

Despite herself, Leliana began watching the crates being carried to the rookery around the time Cullen said ‘more intelligence than we could have hoped for’, staring after them like a child eyeing candy. She took a few hesitant steps, then followed a soldier carrying a crate as though pulled with an invisible string. Evelyn suppressed a small smirk. Josephine merely rolled her eyes.

“Crying at _least_ once a day, it seems, but she still can’t help herself,” the Ambassador sighed, “I must return to my duties. I’m assuming I shall see you later today, Inquisitor?”

“That would be a rather apt assumption, Josie,” Evelyn nodded. The Antivan left. Evelyn sighed and looked down at herself.

“I need a fucking bath,” she huffed before turning to Cullen, “So do you. And wash that fur monstrosity you call a mantle. It’s beginning to smell ripe.”

She couldn’t stay away from Cullen, it seemed. Evelyn was in his office that night, watching him brief a cadre of his officers as they all huddled around a desk. He still hadn’t noticed she was in the room.

“Rylen will be monitoring the situation as it moves forward. We’ll trickle down intelligence to you as we analyze it. In the meantime, I want full,” he glanced up and noticed her and stumbled momentarily, “Preparation for when we hit the last of Corypheus’s forces.”

He nodded to them. “That will be all.” The officers saluted and left, leaving out the door and giving salutes to Evelyn as they passed. Cullen followed them to the door and closed it shut once the last of them were out, leaning against it and bowing his head.

“There’s always something more, isn’t there?” he murmured in exhaustion. She watched him for a moment.

“Wishing we were somewhere else?” she asked. Cullen let out a huff of breath.

“I never found time to get away before. Why should it change now?” he straightened and walked toward his desk, “But this war won’t last forever. When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. But things are different now.”

Evelyn approached and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I find myself wondering what will happen after,” he admitted, turning toward her and running his thumb along her cheek. She had to suppress a shudder at the feeling and had a distant thought that he was extremely close.

“When this is over, I won’t want to move on. Not from you,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. A warm feeling spread through Evelyn, like she had just taken a bath in molten gold. She felt her cheeks heat up rapidly and she curled her lower lip between her teeth. Which seemed like the exact wrong thing to do, because Cullen got shy and darted his gaze down and away. He broke the intimate gesture and began to stammer.

“But I don’t know if you – that is… uh,” he cut himself off and leaned his fists against his desk. She wasn’t sure what overtook her, but she gently slid herself between the Fereldan and the wood. Adorable as his shyness was, she’d found something good, and she refused to let his nervousness ruin something.

“Cullen. Do you need to ask?” she reminded him. He smiled, tugging that scar above his upper lip just right and nearly causing her to sweat.

“I suppose not… I –” he was getting dangerously close. His eyes were hooded and there was nearly nothing left of the amber in his eyes. They were unfocused again, but not like during his withdrawals. He kept getting closer, and she found herself begging that he would just close the distance finally.

And then she made a fool of herself when her hand brushed against an empty bottle, causing it to fall and shatter on the stone floor. She jumped suddenly at the sight, and there was an awkward moment as they both stared at the shards. Cullen smirked and did something she’d never thought he’d do: he swept everything off his desk in one swift motion. Another bottle shattered on the floor and papers were scattered. She found herself thrilled by the sudden boldness and watched with unnecessary glee as everything fell to the ground.

And then his hands were on her hip and her ribs as he brought her on the desk. She gasped in shock as she let herself be pulled onto the surface. He climbed over her and pressed his lips hungrily to hers.

The last thought she had that night was _Finally_.

He woke her early in the morning, letting out grunts as he thrashed in his sleep. He was muttering incoherently and began to take erratic breaths. Evelyn knew better than to wake him; the last time she had woken someone who had trauma like his, she had a rifle pointed at her. So she waited for him to wake or calm on his own.

She didn’t have to wait long. He jerked awake, his eyes shooting open in a panic. Cullen glanced around the room briefly and then he calmed, his head pressing back down on the pillow. Evelyn rest her hand on his chest and studied him.

“Bad dream?” she asked worriedly. He nodded and rubbed at his eyes.

“They’re always bad. Without lyrium, they’re worse,” he admitted. He caught the fretting expression Evelyn had and sat up.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he tried to smooth. She dropped her head back to the pillow and smiled at him.

“Despite the dreams, still a good morning?” she asked in apprehension. He laid down and pressed his lips to her brow.

“Perfect.”

They lay together for some time as the sun began to rise. Eventually, they both admitted to themselves that duty was going to force them out of bed, and the couple simultaneously sat upright and began dressing for the day.

“We should, ah,” Cullen sighed as he stomped his boots on, “We should probably leave at separate times. People will make assumptions.”

“Let them,” Evelyn declared, “I’m not ashamed.”

He blinked. “Well, then. After you,” he gestured to the door that led to the rotunda bridge, and Evelyn stepped out first into the morning light. Cullen followed close behind, and they began to walk toward the castle proper.

They froze halfway across the bridge as a woman below them laughed while a man screamed in shock. They looked down into the courtyard together to see Varric with his hands on his head, screaming wide-eyed up at them while Hawke laughed by his side.

“I told you,” Evelyn heard Marian squeeze through her laughter. She groaned in frustration and dropped her head to the stone handrail.

“Shit!” Varric screamed, “Curly, do you realize what you’ve done!? I owe her twenty royals now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Atoma by Dark Tranquility - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_voh9WFbsM
> 
> Atoma refers to something indivisible. Couldn't think of another song for this one and I've been on a DT binge since their newest album dropped today.


	47. Bless the Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole's a real boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard disclaimer stating that I don't own Dragon Age blah blah

"No."

"But you like demons."

Solas sighed and stared up at the sky as Evelyn approached in slight confusion. "I enjoy the company of spirits, yes, which is part of why I do not abuse them with bindings."

Cole bounded after Solas like a lost puppy. "It isn't abuse if I ask."

Solas shook his head . "Not always true. Also, I do not practice blood magic, which renders this entire conversation academic."

Cole saw  Evelyn and rushed toward  her as if he were coming to  tattle on his older brother.  She blinked at him in confusion as he stomped over  He pointed  toward Solas. "He won't bind me. He's a mage, and he likes demons, but he won't help!"

"Why would you want Solas to bind you?"  Evelyn tried to reassure C o le, but the poor spirit was beyond jumpy. He fidgeted in place and glanced at her nervously.  


"So I'm safe," Cole tried to explain as he fiddled with his hands, "If Solas won't do the ritual to bind me, someone else could. Will. Like the Warden mages. And then I'm not me anymore. Walls around what I want, blocking, bleeding, making me a monster."

Evelyn held up her hands to stop Cole’s rant . "Isn't it extreme for Solas to bind you? What if that takes away the part of you that makes you… you?"

He shook his head, clearly panicked. "Helping makes me who I am. I help the hurting. That is what I do, all I do, am, me."

"And if binding you erases your mind? Your consciousness?" Solas argued. Cole growled in an almost human way.

"You wouldn't make me hurt innocent people,” he continued to argue, “I don't want to hurt innocent people again."

Evelyn sighed. "There has to be some middle ground between 'do nothing' and ' let’s  bind Cole with blood magic."

Solas nodded. "Indeed. This is not the first time Cole has brought this matter to me. This is the fourth. He brought it up twice while you were striking the Shrine of Dumat and once last night while you were with the Commander.”

Evelyn, despite herself, shifted uncomfortably at the thought of others knowing about her private life, especially Solas, whom she had been explicitly told not to trust at least twice. Cole looked as though he wanted to say something but instead remained silent, while Solas merely raised an eyebrow at her.

“Are you alright?” he asked without a hint of worry in his tone.

“Just still new to the idea of others knowing about myself and Cullen,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand, “You were saying how Cole has brought this up to you before?”

“He has,” the elf nodded, glancing toward the spirit, “I recalled stories of amulets used by Rivaini seers to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. A spirit wearing an Amulet of the Unbound was immune to blood magic and binding. I used the resources of the Inquisition to find such a talisman while you were gone. It arrived a few days ago, but I have just finished working out the spell to activate the amulet. With it, we should be able to protect Cole."

"Good,” Cole  nodded  with determination, "They will not take me."

Evelyn drummed her fingers on her arm. “Are you ready now, Solas?”

The elf nodded and turned toward his table, where he grabbed an amulet and tossed it to Cole. The spirit removed his hat and dropped the amulet around his neck before standing awkwardly in the round room.

"It is simple enough,” Solas explained to the nervous-looking spirit, “I must charge it with magic, and you should be protected from any binding that one would attempt."

Evelyn crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “We know it’s not just going to work, right? Nothing in this world ever just works.”

Solas rolled his eyes. “Have faith, Inquisitor. This will only take a moment.”

Solas began sending magic into the amulet, and a moment later, there was a sharp blue spark that bit Cole in the nose with a _snap_. He stumbled backward and yelped, though it seemed to be more from shock than pain. Evelyn wasn’t even sure Cole could feel pain.

Varric was in the room moments later, his eyes wide and his shoulders squared as though prepared for a fight.

"What was that?" he asked quickly as he bolted into the rotunda.

Cole rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and Varric sighed. "Oh for… what are you doing to the kid?"

Cole turned toward Varric nervously. "Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons at Adamant. But it didn't work."

"Something is interfering with the enchantment," Solas tried to explain to the dwarf.

Varric crossed his arms. "Something like Cole not being a demon?" he pointed out. Evelyn blinked in realization and turned toward the elf.

“Solas, is it possible the amulet didn’t work on Cole because he’s too… human?” she asked skeptically.

"Regardless of Cole's special circumstances, he remains a spirit," Solas concluded after a moment of thought, speaking as though he were almost offended at the notion.

"Yes, a spirit who is strangely like a person," Varric pointed out in a tired tone. Evelyn frowned. Something was troubling Varric, and it wasn’t Cole’s conundrum.

"I don't matter," Cole began pacing frantically, "Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow."

"Focus on the amulet," Solas pressed, "Tell me what you feel."

Cole froze for a moment. "Warm, soft blanket covering, but it catches, tears, I'm the wrong shape, there's something..." he spun suddenly and pointed southeast, toward the Hinterlands, "There. That way."

"Well, then,” Evelyn shrugged, “It seems like we have something to find. I told you it never just works.”

"All right, kid," Varric reassured him, "Get Cullen and work with him on the map to figure out where you're sensing something wrong."

"Will you come with me?" he asked tentatively from under the wide brim of his hat, "All of you?"

The dwarf smiled at him. “Sure.”

Cole nodded, then walked away. Halfway through, he realized he was going the wrong way toward Cullen’s office and spun on his heel in a very human way. Varric watched him leave and then looked at Solas with a warning expression.

"All right, I get it,” Varric sighed, “You like spirits. But he came into this world to be a person. Let him be one."

Evelyn didn’t want to piss off the man Erik told her not to trust, so she decided to speak noncommittally.

“If I see a way to help Cole without taking away what he is, I’ll use it,” she said, “But he clearly needs our help.”

"I’m not saying we do nothing," he reassured as his gaze bounced between the two mages, "But that ritual of theirs only works on demons, right?"

Solas was clearly getting frustrated. "This is not some fanciful story, child of the Stone. We cannot change our nature by wishing."

"You don't think?" Varric asked cryptically.

For a moment, Solas froze, and Evelyn could see something in his eyes. It was old. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was clearly impossibly old. And tired beyond all comprehension. And unsure, but utterly convicted and vindicated at the same time, set on some invisible path that it was just briefly unsure of because of Varric’s innocent question. The look in his eyes – eyes that were just a bit too small for an elf’s eyes, Evelyn noticed – took over his entire face for more than a few seconds, despite his mouth and brows remaining still. She had only seen eyes like that once before, and they belonged to Corypheus, a being that was over a thousand years old and claimed to have seen and done things no one should see or do. And at that moment, Evelyn knew Solas was not who he claimed he was at all, and that Erik was right to warn her not to trust him. And she also knew that if he ever caught on that she was suspicious, he would likely flee.

And then the age in his eyes was gone as he spoke. "However we deal with the problem, our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment."

“We agree on that much, at least,” Varric nodded before turning to Evelyn. He gave her a look, and it was subtle, but she was able to pick up on it. He’d noticed Solas’s odd look, too, and he wanted her to know she wasn’t just seeing things. Evelyn said nothing but kept the fact in the back of her mind.

“Hey, Inquisitor,” the dwarf spoke, half to cover their tracks, “I have to introduce you to someone, and I’m not happy about it.”

She was led into the hall, where a hooded dwarf was waiting in Varric’s usual spot. She was pretty, she supposed, though she couldn’t quite see under the hood. The dwarf eyed Evelyn as soon as they entered.

"Well, this is a surprise. You're the Inquisitor, right?” the dwarf bowed, “Bianca Davri, at your service."

_Ah,_ Evelyn thought, _The plot thickens_. "Your name is Bianca?"

Bianca – the dwarf, not the crossbow – shrugged. "It's a common name. Half the girls in the Merchants guild are named Bianca. The other half are named 'Helga.' I lucked out."

"I take it you're a friend of Varric's?" Evelyn asked, pretty sure that they were more than friends.

"Who isn't a friend of Varric's? You have met him before, right?" Bianca's smiled warmly at the roguish man, who, despite the praise, had a worried look on his face. Evelyn was not happy with this but decided to play along.

"Any friend of Varric's is welcome here," Evelyn assured.

"Be careful saying things like that. Some of his friends you don't want to meet," Bianca laughed, "Well, maybe you do. Who am I to judge?"

"Bianca's got a lead on where Corypheus got his red lyrium," Varric said gruffly, deciding to cut to the crux of the issue. Evelyn froze and her gaze sharpened as it turned on the hooded woman.

"The site of Bartrand's Folly, the thaig Varric and Hawke found, has been leaked,” she informed, “There's a Deep Roads entrance crawling with strange humans carting out red lyrium by the handful."

"How do we know they're not using multiple entrances to get to the thaig?" Evelyn asked worriedly.

"Navigating the Deep Roads isn't like the surface," Bianca explained, "There are no accurate maps of the whole system, and there are cave-ins, darkspawn, lava floods… If you find a route that gets where you're going, you don't deviate. Trying to find another way could be deadly."

"Who could have given away the thaig's location?" Evelyn asked immediately. Something was off about the way Bianca was speaking.

"There were a few people who knew," Varric thought out loud, "Hirelings from the expedition. A couple of close friends."

"How they found out isn't important," Bianca deflected, "What matters is we know where they are now."

Evelyn began to grow suspicious of the dwarven woman.

"We need to deal with this,” Evelyn decided, “I’ve already killed the smuggling operation, but as long as he has this source, Corypheus is that much more powerful."

"I couldn't agree more," Varric sighed.

"I'll keep an eye on their operation. If you're interested in shutting it down, you've got my help, but it was a long road here, and I need to rest a day or two," Bianca decided before turning to Varric, her voice flirting, "Try not to leave me waiting too long, Varric. I've got my own work to do, you know."

Bianca left for the guest quarters and Evelyn turned to the dwarf she _did_ trust, who was rubbing at his neck awkwardly. "Right. That's not going to be trouble at all. Let me know when you want to head to the entrance. But it’s not going anywhere, and Cole needs our help, too."

“Where is the entrance?” she asked, trying to plan such a tight schedule. Varric shrugged.

“It’s not far from the Hinterlands, so we could hit both in one trip,” he assumed, “There’s only one entrance to that thaig.”

Evelyn nodded. “I’ll go see if Cole has pinned down where we’re headed right now. We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready.”

  
  


Redcliffe. Of course, she was in fucking Redcliffe. She hated the town. It seemed as though nothing went right there. Undead assaults during the Blight, Darkspawn sieges during the Blight, the center of the mage half of the Rebellion, taken over by a Magister working with the Venatori, and then, to top it all off, she was yanked through time with Dorian and sent on the wildest trip of her life. Well, the wildest trip of her life until she fell physically into the Fade and lost her brother to a giant demon shaped like a horrible spider.

Evelyn grunted. Her life was a mess. Or maybe the Maker had a twisted sense of humor.

Cole was glaring at what looked like a man speaking to a dwarf beneath the Warden statue in the center of Redcliffe. He noticed their group and began to approach.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“You,” the spirit boy growled. And then he was gone, and suddenly in front of the man, his hand on his forehead as he was brought to his knees. Evelyn grimaced. Maybe this was a good time to step in.

“You killed me,” Cole gritted at the terrified man.

Or not.

"What, I don't..." the man laughed nervously, "I don't even know you."

Cole was trembling with rage. Definitely a human trait, she supposed.

"You forgot. You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire, and you forgot, and I died in the dark," he yelled, his eyes hurt and angry.

"The Spire?" his eyes widened in understanding, and Evelyn knew he understood.

"Cole, stop," Solas barked as they approached. Cole faltered for a moment, and in that instant, the man ran off, the only thing in the direction he chose a cliff that dropped into Lake Calenhad. Cole’s face twisted in fury and he began to follow.

"Just take it easy, kid," Varric soothed, calmly cutting him off from his pursuit.

"He killed me. He killed me,” Cole yelled, jabbing his finger toward the direction the man ran off to, “That's why it doesn't work. He killed me, and I have to kill him back."

“I’m not against killing someone, but what the fuck is going on?” Evelyn breathed in absolute confusion.

"Cole, this man cannot have killed you," Solas tried to explain, "You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body."

"A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dark dank, a captured apostate,” Cole explained shakily, “They threw him into the dungeon in The Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death. I came through to help... and I couldn't. So I became him. Cole."

Evelyn suddenly understood and knew the story was true. She’d heard enough of them to know it was, even if Ostwick was rather benign and boring for a Circle.

"If Cole was an apostate, that'd make the guy we just saw a Templar,” Varric concluded, “Must've been buying lyrium."

A former Templar made sense. Probably a particularly cruel one, expelled from the Order, too addicted to the stuff and unwilling to suffer through the withdrawals.

"Let me kill him. I need to…" Cole began to stammer and pushed past Varric, "I need to."

"Solas?" Evelyn asked quietly as the three of them huddled together.

"We cannot let Cole kill the man," he passionately whipped out. Despite his calm demeanor, it was clear he was not calm at all.

"I don't think anyone was going to suggest that, Chuckles," Varric murmured.

Solas narrowed his eyes at Varric and turned back toward Evelyn. "Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive."

"Come on," Varric argued, "You don't just forgive someone killing you."

"You don't. A spirit can."

"Varric?"

"The kid's angry. He needs to work through it."

"A spirit does not work through emotions,” Solas rebutted, “It embodies them."

Varric shook his head at the elf. "But he isn't a spirit, is he? He made himself human, and humans change. They get hurt, and they heal. He needs to work it out like a person."

"You would alter the essence of what he is."

"He did that to himself when he left the Fade. I'm just helping him survive it."

Evelyn’s jaw clenched in frustration. “Erik was a spirit. He worked through his emotions just fine.”

“Erik was… something else entirely,” Solas pointed out, “Not exactly a spirit, but not mortal. He chose on his own.”

“I think that’s the point Varric is trying to make here, Solas,” Evelyn concluded.

Varric nodded. “Exactly. We aren’t forcing him to do anything, and I’m not gonna let the kid kill the guy. But he’s feeling emotions. He needs to learn how to work through it.”

Solas sighed. “Fine. But if he twists into a demon, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

"Leave it to me," Varric reassured, walking after the young man as Evelyn followed. Varric sidled up next to Cole.

“Alright, kid. You want revenge?” he asked, “Come with me.”

They moved through the village, and Evelyn followed. It was clear that Cole was hurting. It was also clear that Varric did not have any bolts in his crossbow. Evelyn felt like the two were connected. They rushed to where the former Templar was staring over the edge of the cliff, terrified for his life. He was unarmed. It was clear Cole was not a mage. The man was helpless.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” he begged. Varric eyed Cole and shook his head.

“Sorry isn’t going to help him now, is it, kid?” he asked loudly. Cole shook his head, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“No.” Varric grabbed Bianca and let the arms loose. He handed it to Cole, something she had never seen him do before. He never let anyone touch that crossbow, not even Hawke and Isabela.

“Pull the trigger and put him down like a mad dog,” he murmured. Cole shook with rage, his breaths labored as he shouldered the crossbow. He sighted the former Templar in and let out a scream of fury as he squeezed the trigger. The man held his hands up to his face as though the gesture would bring him salvation.

No bolt came. A clicking sound, but no bolt. Cole glared down at the crossbow in his hands. Varric gently took it from him.

“Feel any better?” he asked softly.

“No,” Cole spat, shaking his head. Evelyn watched in stunned silence as the air seemed to shimmer around the spirit.

“You can't just make it all go away,” the dwarf said quietly and with regret, “I learned that the hard way.”

Cole nodded but seemed to ignore what he meant by it as he held up his hand toward the still trembling man.

“Forge—”

“No,” Varric stopped him, “He needs to remember. You do, too. We’re done here.”

Cole left, Varric’s arm on his back as Cole began to calm down. Evelyn watched them leave then turned toward the man on the ground. She studied him for a time. Weak. Cowardly. Abusing his power on those lesser than him. She knew it all. And he knew it, too, because as she watched him coldly, shame washed over his face and a tear fell from his eye.

_Good_ , she thought spitefully,  _Let him remember. Let them all fucking remember._

  
  


They rode back across Ferelden and toward the location of the Deep Roads entrance but stayed overnight at an inn. Varric had ordered Cole something to drink, and the boy actually drank it – the first time she ever saw him do so. Cole sat at the table for a while, merely thinking, and she could sense that he needed time. She, Varric and Solas all stood and moved to their room. As soon as the door was closed, the bald man ran his hands down his face.

"For all we know, the amulet will now never function,” he breathed, “Cole remains vulnerable to binding."

"No, he isn't," Varric crossed his arms, "The amulet didn't work because he's too human, right? Maybe now the kid's also too human for that binding magic to work on him."

Solas merely shrugged. "I hope you're right."

Cole entered, his head hung and rubbing his arm gently.

"It still hurts,” he moaned as he sat on the bed, “When do I stop hurting?"

Evelyn sat next to him and studied him for a moment. He was crying. Actually crying, his eyes red and puffy and his skin flushed. He felt… whole, more present. But it was clear he was in pain, no doubt from many things at once. She put her arm around the boy.

“When you find the answer to that, Cole, you let me know,” she said gently, “Hurting is part of being human. We hurt and we heal and then we grow and learn. It’ll never go away, but you’ll look back at it and realize that you survived it and you were better on the other side.”

Varric gestured toward the door. "Come on, kid. Let's go for a walk. It'll clear your head."

"The Left Hand misses a friend with two different names. She especially misses a man who she loved that taught her that the old her was still under the lies and deceit. She's hurting, sad, halves not whole," he took off his hat and ran his hands through his shaggy platinum hair as he stood, "But… everyone can see me now. They remember. How do I put honey in Leliana's wine without her noticing?"

"I can help with that," Varric offered as they left the room. Evelyn watched him go with sadness and regret, and then was faced with yet another question of whether she did the right thing or not. She had been faced with a lot of those questions lately. What would have happened if she hadn’t walked into the ritual at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, or if she had decided to conscript the mages rather than ally with them? Did she choose the better option at the Winter Palace? Did it matter, if she gave up her soul in consigning a woman to death? What if she hadn’t frozen in the Fade? Would Erik still be alive? Would he have a different opinion of the outcome Cole had chosen for himself? That she had allowed him to choose? If he were alive, and she had confronted him about who Solas truly was, would he admit that he knew, or keep her in the dark for any of his numerous reasons?

The Anchor began to ache and glowed slightly in response to her agitation and self-questioning, the first time it had done so when not around a rift in months. She rubbed it and thought about her brother, and of Leliana, still grieving heavily despite her partial return to her duties as spymaster.

"It is good that he is not entirely changed, however human he becomes,” Solas sighed as he watched Cole and Varric leave for their walk through the twilit Crossroads, his eyes bearing the same oldness they did before, “It is getting late. I should rest.”

“Yes,” she croaked, “I probably should, too.”

They silently crawled into the small beds the inn had provided, and Evelyn snuffed the candles in the room with a wave of her hand and just a hint of magic. She began to slip into the Fade, and just as she did so, she remembered to ward her dreams with extra care, especially while sleeping so close to a man she certainly did not trust.

She dreamt of a woman with yellow, cat-like eyes and snow-white hair shaped like the horns of a dragon. She laughed at something unsaid and spoke words in a language Evelyn failed to understand.

Upon waking, Evelyn realized she recognized her eyes as the same ones Morrigan bore and realized that the woman in her dreams held the same ancient look Solas’s blue ones did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Bless the Child by Nightwish - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vc4IRfOyV5M
> 
> Posting from here until I'm either done with this thing or in remission will go one of two ways: business as usual, or decent-sized chunks of radio silence while I get sick from the radiation therapy. Who knows which way it'll go?


	48. Shitstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang helps a lying, manipulative dwarf. Aedan makes some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert standard disclaimer here

Cole elected to go back to Skyhold and ‘think’, which was a very human thing to say. Solas went with him, promising to make sure he was alright after what Evelyn imagined would be a harrowing ordeal. She thanked her foresight on giving Dorian, Rainier, Marian and Isabela the order to forward deploy to one of their camps before they arrived. She knew Hawke would want to be there to help with anything personal for Varric, and Isabela quite literally did not let her wife out of sight after the Fade incident at Adamant, so they were practically a necessity. The four linked up with Evelyn and Varric and moved on to the entrance to the Deep Roads, which was, of all places, behind a waterfall, and rather pretty for an entrance to a cavernous underground labyrinth filled with death and doom.

“Brings back memories,” Varric murmured, his voice filled with nostalgia.

“Remember finding Sandal with an ogre frozen solid in front of him?” Hawke laughed, “All he said about how he did it was, ‘not enchantment’.”

“Isn’t Sandal the dwarf that gave the rather unnerving prophecy Erik told at the Winter Palace?” Dorian asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep. Apparently, the Hero of Ferelden found him surrounded by hundreds of Darkspawn corpses when his group stormed Fort Drakon during the Battle of Denerim,” Varric nodded.

“Varric, the prophecy and the frozen ogre are somewhat believable,” Evelyn rolled her eyes at the storyteller, “But _hundreds_ of Darkspawn?”

“I wasn’t there,” he held his hands up, “I’m getting the story from Leliana. Ask her if you want. Or the Witch of the Wilds. She was there, too, apparently.”

“I may do so the next time I speak with her,” Dorian hummed, “She and I have been bouncing magical theory off each other for weeks now. Her son is rather brilliant.”

“And rather creepy,” Rainier grumbled, “He’d heard about my sentence. Started talking about how I’ll, ‘hear the Song, soon’, and I think the ‘Song’ was capitalized.”

They passed through the waterfall and were met with a half-dozen Carta dwarves, which quickly and rather violently fell to their blades and spells and bolts. They moved on, expecting further resistance inside. What they did not expect was the voice of Bianca from a dark corner of the cave, causing them all to jump slightly and nearly attack the source of the noise.

"Finally,” she sighed as she stepped out of the shadows, “I started to think you weren't coming."

“We had a friend who needed our help,” Evelyn explained, not at all worried that she made the sketchy woman wait.

Varric raised an eyebrow. "And nobody said you had to hang out in the creepy cave while you waited."

"Well, I did wait, so let's make this quick. These idiots are carrying the red lyrium out in unprotected containers," she hissed, "We don't want to stick around long enough for it to start 'talking' to us."

“That’s already happened,” Dorian shrugged, “We’ve all been around the stuff long enough to hear it at least once.”

“At _least_ once,” Evelyn huffed, “The shit seems to plague me everywhere I go.”

“Well, hopefully this will keep any more from getting to the surface,” Bianca shrugged.

“Wait,” Dorian held up his hands, “Why would it need to be protected?”

“Lyrium is dangerous in its raw form,” Bianca explained as they walked, “It can poison and kill _dwarves_ , and we’re resistant to it. Sometimes it just… explodes. No warning. And the red stuff is worse. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the miners died digging it up.”  
“Basically, only crazy people mine lyrium,” Varric summed up succinctly.

“How in Andraste’s name did you find out about this operation, anyways?” Rainier asked.

“I’ve used this entrance before. Varric’s not the only surface dwarf that’s explored the Deep Roads,” she shrugged, “Imagine my surprise when a bunch of humans were everywhere.”

Evelyn eyed the tiny woman. "If you're coming with us, I hope you can handle a fight."

"No. I thought I'd cower helplessly while you do all the work," Bianca drawled sardonically, crossing her arms in a defiant move.

"She's a decent shot," Varric bit out slowly.

"Decent?"

"You want me to admit you're better than me?” he huffed in irritation, “In front of the Inquisitor?"

"Let's not waste any more time, shall we?" Bianca sighed as they moved into the ruins.

They hacked, slashed and shot through Carta dwarves that never seemed to end. It felt like they were taking out half the organization in the operation, but they were ever so slowly grinding their way through the ruins. Absentmindedly, Evelyn mused about how much violence had become an afterthought since her time with the Inquisition. She could still remember her first combat experience at the Crossroads nearly a year prior, even if it felt like a lifetime had come and gone. She supposed it had, in a way. She’d done more in a year than some do in an Age. She laughed about it to herself as she shocked, burned, and froze her way through Carta dwarves and humans alike, not a moment of hesitation or balking at the blatant violence and death she and her friends were bestowing. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She supposed it was neither, in the end. It simply was. Violence was a means to an end to be used in certain times, and nothing else. There was a lull as they moved through a more secluded area, and Bianca started talking to Varric again.

“You had me worried, you know,” she chastised.

“What did I do now?” Varric sighed in resignation.

“That letter I got from you about the red lyrium was the first I’d heard from you since the Chantry explosion.”

Varric blinked. “Had it been that long?”

“Seriously, had you died in that mess, I’d have dug you up myself just to kick your ass.”

They came upon a door, steel and stone, that was sealed and extremely thick. Bianca approached it and studied the door for a moment before fiddling with the construct.

"I built these doors,” she explained while she worked, “They probably shut this one from the other side when they heard the ruckus we were making."

The door slid open and Evelyn began to grow extremely suspicious of the woman. She decided to hide it as best she could.

"Admit it, you've been waiting to do that since we arrived," she joked to cover the unease she had begun to feel.

"Of course I was," Bianca laughed, gesturing into the ruin, "After you."

Evelyn shot a look at Marian, who gave a slight nod. She’d begun to feel uneasy, too. They moved on, and eventually, after quite a bit more combat, they came to an even more reinforced door. Bianca shuffled around for something and then hummed.

"There you are," she grabbed a key and fiddled with the door, and they heard a deep latching sound, "They won't be able to use this entrance again."

Varric realized what had happened, and his face grew disappointed.

"Bianca…" She went completely still at the sound. Evelyn sighed, knowing something was up with the woman. Now she knew.

"You want to say something, Varric?" Hawke asked with barely contained fury.

"Andraste's ass, Bianca,” he nearly shouted, “You're the leak?"

"When I got the location, I went and had a look for myself. And I found the red lyrium, and I," Bianca’s face fell and she began to fiddle with her hands, "Studied it."

"You know what it does to people," Varric barked in anger.

"I was doing you a favor!” she shouted back, “You’ve had people studying it for years now, and they’ve found nothing! I just… wanted to figure it out."

"Did you figure it out?" Evelyn asked with hostility.

"Actually, yes. I figured out that red lyrium… it has the Blight, Varric. Do you know what that means?" she asked.

Varric laughed in frustration. "We’ve known this the whole time! The Champion of Andraste told us at least two or three times! It’s been part of the Inquisition’s approach since basically day one! So what? Two deadly things combined to form something super-awful?"

"Lyrium is alive. Or something like it. Blight doesn't infect minerals. Only animals. And I… wait,” Bianca stopped rambling, “You _already knew_ red lyrium has the Blight?”

“Ever since we recruited the mages at Redcliffe ten months ago,” Evelyn confirmed, crossing her arms, “It informed my decision not to exile the Wardens. Erik Andersen was immune to it.”

“Enough about the Blight,” Hawke snapped, “It’s out of the Deep Roads now. We can’t stop it. The question is now _how_ you fucked up so badly.”

“…I found this guy, a mage, Larius,” Bianca tried to explain, “He seemed really interested in helping my research. So I gave him a key."

"Larius? He was the Grey Warden we met in Corypheus's –" Varric's eyes went wide, "Oh, shit. I knew something seemed off."

"I didn't realize until you said you found red lyrium at Haven,” the dwarf continued her story, “I came here and, well… then I went to you."

"That name means something to you, Varric?" Rainier asked gruffly.

"He was at the Grey Warden prison where we found Corypheus,” Isabela explained, “And he _definitely_ wasn't a mage before."

Evelyn sighed and ran her hands along her face. "You had to know we'd figure out what happened, Bianca. I’m the _Inquisitor_ , for fucks sake. Why did you insist on coming with us?"

"Varric told me what people were doing with the red lyrium. I..." Bianca sighed, "Had to help make this right."

"Well, you couldn't have known what would happen," Dorian defended her merely to show both sides.

"Maferath's balls, she couldn't," Varric shouted as he took a couple steps forward, "I told her _exactly_ how bad this shit was. I told her to keep away from it."

"I know I screwed up, but we did fix it. It's as right as I can make it," she defended.

"This isn't one of your machines. You can't just replace a part and make everything right."

"No, but I can try, can't I?” Bianca screamed, “Or am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories of what I should have done?"

That was when Marian seemingly decided she’d had enough. She lunged forward and backhanded the dwarven woman as hard as she could, then yanked her up by the shoulder of her top and shook her at eye-level.

“Listen to me, you pint-sized piece of shit,” Hawke growled, “Varric has been my best friend for ten years. Ten _fucking_ years! He and I have been through shit you wouldn’t even comprehend, all while you seemed to have been dragging him along, giving him just enough hope that he’d be with you to give you the information you needed. It ends here. Today. Your meddling has cost us immensely. You have no idea what’s at stake if we lose the war we're fighting.”

“I know enough,” Bianca spat angrily, seemingly unable to meet Marian’s enraged gaze..

“You don’t,” Evelyn sighed, “According to my brother before he died, there are beginning to be forces at play in the world that we couldn’t even comprehend. The Blight is now another one of those forces, because of _you_. Red lyrium corrupts everything it touches. It should have stayed in Bartrand’s Folly, but you had to know more. Some doors shouldn’t be opened, Bianca. We mages know better than most that the price of knowledge is often too steep. You learned that the hard way. It’s a shame the price was the world.”

Bianca looked terrified, and Evelyn figured she _should_ feel terrified. She tried to hide a world-changing secret from something called the Inquisition. As Bull once said, they’d have found out eventually, one way or another. Besides, the dwarven woman unleashed a corrupting force onto the surface of Thedas. One that consumed everything it could and gave no reasonable options of destroying it. She had half a mind to arrest the woman, but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to Varric. Isabela put her hand on her wife’s shoulder, and Hawke sighed and dropped the dwarven woman from shoulder height. Bianca hit the stone hard and scrambled quickly to her feet.

"Sorry Inquisitor," Varric sighed, "We've done all we can here. Bianca, you'd better get home before _someone_ misses you."

"Varric?" Bianca asked in a hollow voice. They turned and began to leave, with Varric waving dismissively at her. Evelyn was the last to turn away from the woman that looked like she had just lost everything. Her throat began to bob and she looked up at Evelyn.

"Get him killed, and I'll feed you your own eyeballs, Inquisitor," she warned. But Evelyn was having none of it. She turned back and squatted down in front of her, determined to have the last word.

“You’re very lucky I was in a good mood today,” she warned in a low tone, “And that Varric is my friend. Because if you weren’t, I would have you arrested and imprisoned. I would have you starved. You would be chained to a floor while we went out and did battle with a being whose power half comes from your mistakes. If you threaten me, Bianca Davri, you had better be prepared to make good on those threats. I have killed more people than anyone can count. I’ve led men into battle. I’ve gone to the Fade – physically. I’ve faced down the man who started the Blights and his pet dragon and lived. Have you ever done any of that?”

She blinked in fear and shook her head. Evelyn smiled coldly and put a hand on her shoulder, allowing just a bit of magic to seep through so Bianca could feel it.

“Be very careful about who you threaten,” she advised, “You aren’t that important. No one will really notice you if you’re gone.”

Evelyn approached Varric when they returned to Skyhold. He was leaning against his table staring into the fireplace. The dwarf glanced at Evelyn as she approached.

“I’m glad to have answers, but… _shit_ ,” he hissed, “The second she showed up here, I knew. I just…”

He let out a bitter laugh and sighed.

“I let this happen. I have her the thaig,” he turned toward her, “I’m not good at dealing with shit like this.”

“I don’t think anyone is equipped any better than you are,” Evelyn started. Varric merely shook his head.

“No, no, the point is, I don’t! I don’t deal with things,” Varric frowned, “If Cassandra hadn’t dragged me here, I’d be in Kirkwall right now, pretending none of this was happening.”

“Hey. You know that’s not true,” she said firmly, “You’ve worked as hard as any of us to fight Corypheus.”

“Is that true,” he huffed, “I don’t even know anymore.”

Evelyn paused and thought for a moment. “After all this, you think you’ll see Bianca again?”

“I always do,” Varric said a bit sadly, but with a smile.

“You shouldn’t,” Evelyn shook her head. At Varric’s slightly surprised look, she pressed on, “She’s using you, Varric. She used you to get that thaig. If she really cared, she’d have written you after the Kirkwall Rebellion. But she didn’t.”

“I… well, I mean, she’s got her own things, and I –”

“She’s married, Varric,” Evelyn said gently, “And she’s a user anyways. Drop her. You’re better than her. Don’t let her drag you down.”

Varric sighed after a long bout of silence. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she smiled, using his own quote against him, “And when I’m not, I lie about it. Come on. Let’s go find Hawke and Isabela and drink ourselves into a stupor.”

* * *

Aedan and his crew marched across the wasteland in haste. They may be immune to the Blight, but that didn’t mean they liked being in blighted wastelands any more than they had to. Adamant was nearby, and it was a chance for safe haven from the incessant misery of the Western Approach. They were all tired and wanted to get back to civilization, himself more than the rest of them. Just a little further, he told himself constantly. Then he’d be back with his wife and his boy and it would all be over.

But when they arrived at Adamant, it was half-destroyed. The eastern and western walls were completely rubble, and there were bloodstains and viscera everywhere, smelling awful after rotting in the blistering heat.

“What in the Void happened here?” Sigrun asked.

“Battle, looks like,” Aedan hummed. He closed his eyes and felt for the Taint in any of the blood. There was a lot of it. Half the blood in the fortress was Warden blood.

“The Wardens had a battle here,” he surmised, “I can feel the Taint.”

“So can I,” Velanna agreed, “And look around. See all the remains? Those aren’t mortal. They’re demonic.”

“Yep. Fought enough of the bastards. Demons, and a lot of them,” Oghren growled. They continued on through the fortress. Here and there, strange cylinders made of what seemed to be brass dotted the ground, usually in groups of two or three at a time. Aedan picked them up as they went along, and eventually, they came to the main courtyard at the center of Adamant.

It fared no better than anywhere else. There were no bodies, but there was arguably more blood and demonic remains here than anywhere else in the fortress. It was the heart of the battle, it seemed. There was no Darkspawn blood anywhere, oddly enough. Just Warden blood and untainted blood and the remains of demons.

“The Veil is thin here,” Velanna murmured.

“There was a battle,” Sigrun shrugged, “A big one, at that. Of course it’ll be thin.”

“No, _too_ thin. It almost isn’t there. It was like it was torn,” she said, pointing to the center of the courtyard, “Right there.”

“Should we keep moving?” Oghren asked. Aedan thought for a minute and then shook his head.

“No. This’ll give us a chance to rest, and the courtyard gives us a good view of anything coming our way. We’ll stay here for the night and then move on.”

They started a fire and ate in a corner of the courtyard. They were running low on meat again and would have to hunt soon, but there wasn’t anything worth killing in the Approach. Not for food, at least.

“What do you think happened?” Sigrun asked. Aedan shrugged as he swallowed down a mouthful of beans.

“No clue,” he shrugged, “But this many demons? Someone must have summoned them.”

“But why?” Velanna pondered in a bewildered tone, “There must have been thousands of demons. What in the Creators’ names happened here?”

“I don’t know. All nug shit to me, anywa –” Oghren stopped mid-word and watched Velanna curiously as her head perked up with a frown and her ears twitched the same time Rabbit snapped upright from where he lay and began to growl.

“What?” Aedan raised an eyebrow at the elf and his dog.

“There’s someone here,” she whispered as she reached for her staff. They all stood and readied their weapons. Aedan drew Vigilance and spun it in his grasp to loosen his wrist and glanced around. Then he heard a voice from the battlements.

“Two dwarves, a human, and a Dalish elf,” the voice said, “Dunno who the fuck they are, Chief.”

Another voice, deep and slightly angry, responded to the first. Twenty seconds later, a Qunari appeared on the battlements above them, wielding a warhammer that was unbelievably massive.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he yelled down at them.

“Getting some rest from a long journey,” Aedan shouted back, “Adamant seemed a good place to stop. What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

“Destroying this place,” the Qunari responded. Aedan blinked in surprise.

“What? Why?”

“There was a battle here,” the Qunari explained, “The Orlesian Wardens tried summoning a demon army. This place could be a hotspot for demons if it isn’t dealt with.”

“The Orlesian part of the Order summoned a demon army?” Sigrun whispered. Aedan eyed her. She was right. It sounded completely impossible.

“Why in the Maker’s name would the Orlesian Wardens summon a demon army?” Aedan asked the Qunari.

“I don’t know. Something called the Calling had them thinking they were all dying. They were gonna summon demons to kill the rest of the Old Gods.”

“Whose nug shit idea was that?” Oghren laughed.

“Some Magister named Erimond and Warden-Commander Clarel,” the giant man responded from his perch on the battlements, “Inquisition got called in to stop the whole mess before Corypheus killed all the Grey Wardens and took the demon army for himself.”

Aedan blinked. “Wait. Corypheus is alive? And there’s an Inquisition? After eight hundred years?”

“How do you know he died?” the Qunari asked skeptically, “And how do you know that but not know about the Inquisition?”

“Because we’re fucking Wardens,” Aedan explained, “And we’ve been away from everything for a very long time. Who the fuck are you?”

“The Iron Bull. My boys and I work for the Inquisition. We’re here on the Inquisitor’s orders,” Iron Bull paused, “Who the fuck are you? Do we have to kill you?”

“More dangerous things than you have tried,” he laughed, “I’m Aedan Fucking Cousland, asshole.”

They got along quite well after that. Iron Bull and his company, the Chargers, came down and shared some of their alcohol, which smoothed the entire misunderstanding over. Oghren was trying, and succeeding, to out drink Bull’s second in command Krem, while Velanna and their Dalish mage – _archer_ , he corrected himself – were babbling in elvhen in a corner. Sigrun was talking to a surface dwarf named Rocky. Aedan was getting filled in with everything that happened from Iron Bull and the Chargers’ healer, Stitches.

“So… let me get this straight,” he sighed, “Corypheus blew up the Conclave that was going to stop the Mage-Templar War. Killed the Divine. Some guy from another world who the people started calling the Champion of Andraste fell through a rift with a woman who is now the Inquisitor… and apparently the Herald of Andraste. Cassandra Pentaghast and Leliana – my _friend_ Leliana – called the Inquisition on the Divine’s orders. Stopped the Mage-Templar war. Started _another_ war with Corypheus, who’s somehow alive and now trying to ascend to godhood. The Inquisitor and that guy from the other world kept Orlais whole and installed Gaspard on the throne, and then they stopped that madness that went on here. Then they fell into the Fade and the guy from another world gave his life to save everyone else that was there.”

“Pretty much,” Bull nodded, “I was there in the Fade when Erik gave up his life. Heroic and honorable, but it couldn’t have been a pretty death.”

Aedan took a swig of alcohol. “What the _fuck_?” he breathed in confusion.

“That’s pretty much what we’ve all been thinking since day one,” Stitches, the company’s healer, agreed as he took another drink.

“And my _wife_ is working for the Inquisition, too?” he asked, “She’s at this Skyhold?”

“Yep. Morrigan is there. Haven’t really spoken to her, though. She kind of scares me,” Bull said.

“I’m married to her and Morrigan scares me,” Aedan laughed, “Your apprehension is understandable.”

“Ser, do you know anything about Corypheus?” Stitches asked, “The Inquisition has been trying to gather as much information as they can.”

Aedan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “He’s functionally immortal. Any Tainted body can be his vessel. It’s like an Archdemon, in a way. If he dies, he can just jump into the next blighted body available. It’s why the Wardens imprisoned him in the Vimmark Mountains in the first place. Weisshaupt was _not_ happy when they heard the daughter of the man they paid to reseal the prison accidentally let him out and killed him, but they kept it as quiet as they could so to not cause a panic.”

“So we can’t kill him,” Bull assumed grimly. Aedan shook his head.

“I never said that,” he corrected, “Anything can die. It’s finding out how to do it is the tricky part. Usually, you just stab something until it isn’t moving anymore. Isn’t so easy with Corypheus.”

“Well, here’s hoping we find a way to kill the bastard,” Iron Bull grunted, “So. You disappeared. Where did you go?”

“We went to get a cure for the Calling.”

“Did you succeed?”

Aedan nodded and stretched his arms out. “Calling-free. So are the other three miscreants with me. Had to work with the Architect again to get the cure.”

“I heard Erik mention him once,” the Tal-Vashoth hummed, “Who is he?”

“He’s another Darkspawn Magister,” Aedan explained, feeling as though the cat were out of the bag on the Magisters anyway. At the horrified look Bull and Stitches gave, Aedan shook his head, “He’s not like Corypheus. He doesn’t even remember being human. He just goes around freeing Darkspawn from the Song of the Old Gods now. Lets them think for themselves.”

“And you just… let him?” Stitches asked in shock, “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t want to destroy the world,” Aedan shrugged, leaving the part out about how the Architect accidentally started the last Blight, “He wants to help it. He’s sick of the endless hunting for the Old Gods the normal Darkspawn get up to, so he just goes around and cures them of their need to find them. They’re called the Awakened.”

“Well, that’s fucking creepy,” Iron Bull sighed, “And worrying. If there’s two awake, that means the rest are probably out there somewhere, too.”

“Two of them are dead,” Aedan informed the man, “Killed each other in an argument. One ate the other, and the third ran off. It was in a journal we found about three years ago on one of our expeditions down into the Deep Roads. I don’t know where the other three are, and neither does Weisshaupt. Or, if they do, they’re not sharing.”

“Good to know,” Bull sighed, “Well… Warden-Commander? Hero? Arl? What should I call you?”

“Just call me Aedan,” he reassured. He was always uncomfortable when people called him the Hero of Ferelden, and non-Wardens shouldn’t be calling him Warden-Commander. Though, he supposed he _was_ still the Arl of Amaranthine.

“Aedan,” the horned man nodded, “We need to destroy this place. Too much bad shit has happened here. It’s weakening the Veil and this place could end up a hotspot for demons, maleficarum and Venatori. You can travel with us to Skyhold if you want. Your wife and son are there, so I assume you’d want to go there.”

“You would be correct,” he sighed, “I’ve been away for over a year. Almost two. That’s far too long. We’ll go to Skyhold with you. We can disseminate the cure from there once we –”

There was a sudden crack. Every head in the courtyard turned upward toward the source of the sound. The Veil had torn, the rift appearing well over three hundred feet in the air. The Chargers readied their weapons and moved into positions across the courtyard.

“Fucking hell,” Bull growled, “Get your guys ready for a fight. There’s gonna be demons.”

They prepared and waited, but nothing came. It just sat there inertly for a moment. Aedan glanced toward Bull momentarily.

“I thought you said there were going to be demons,” he pointed out skeptically.

“There normally are,” Krem, Iron Bull’s lieutenant, called from across the courtyard, “This isn’t normal. I don’t know what the fuck is –”

Just as he spoke, Aedan heard a deep, anguished roar come rumbling from the other side. Then a pride demon fell unceremoniously from the Fade. It didn't materialize like Bull had explained earlier, no; this one fell, back toward the courtyard, arms flailing futilely at something on its chest.

Whatever was on the massive being's chest was not demonic. At least, it didn’t _look_ demonic. It could be hard to say, sometimes. It bore physical similarities to a rather large human, or perhaps a rather small, hornless Qunari. The green smoke and energy of the physical Fade trailed off both entities as they fell through the Veil and toward the ground.

Everyone in the courtyard could only watch with bated breath and unrestrained awe as something silver was driven into the pride demon's chest as it fell. The demon made a gurgling noise, dark purple ichor spraying from its mouth in rather large quantities and raining down upon the onlookers in the courtyard. Its movements slowed as it fell, and fell, and fell. Aedan saw a flash of long, red hair on the other being’s head.

Then they both crashed into the courtyard with a thunderous noise, the pride demon’s twisted horns cracking the stone before they shattered as it struck, and the movements stilled. Surprisingly, the rift closed on its own.

The figure on the demon's chest rose slowly from its knees. It left its blade in the pride demon’s chest as it stood from the felled demon’s body, its movements wobbly. Aedan studied it. Its red hair was matted in sweat and grime, its similarly colored beard unkempt. The entity looked to be a very large human man, rivaling the sheer size of the people of the Avvar tribes he’d met. Ribbons of cloth fluttered off his thick forearms and onto the ground. Red, oddly shimmering blood dripped down his arms and off his fingertips as his chest heaved with exhaustion. Blood was on his face, too, both the shining red of his own and the purple of the pride demon. Aedan thought the man’s eyes were glowing blue, like the spirits and possessed he’d encountered. Or like Anders – a worrying thought.

Then the man swayed in place, and Aedan spotted something strapped to it. What appeared to be a metal weapon, too short to be a staff but not a sword or bow, or even a crossbow. He puzzled at the thing tied tightly to its back.

"Sweet Maker above," Stitches breathed in shock at his side, voicing what appeared to be the same sentiment as the entirety of the Chargers, by the looks of it. Aedan, for one, was simply confused.

“This is impossible,” the Dalish mage – _archer_ , Aedan corrected himself – said in a similarly stunned tone.

The man from the Fade drove the toe of his boot hard into the pride demon's head, causing the dead demon’s neck to snap and its horns to come loose from its skull; the man took a breath and spat blood in its limp face.

"FUCK YOU!" he roared at the felled demon. He collapsed face-first into the pride demon’s upper torso.

Nobody moved for a very long time, and then Bull dropped his hammer in absolute shock, everyone jumping slightly at the metallic _thud_ it made as it cracked the stone ground. The noise seemed to bring everyone back to their senses, and Stitches rushed to the fallen man just as Velanna and Dalish moved in the same direction, as well.

“Leliana is going to absolutely lose her damn mind,” the Tal-Vashoth breathed in awe as the two mages and healer began working on the wounded man. Aedan had no idea what the Qunari meant by that statement.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Shitstorm by Strapping Young Lad - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMKFR73GvQ8
> 
> Sorry not sorry.


	49. Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyhold has some unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Dragon Age day you miscreants. There's probably going to be another chapter either tonight or very early next morning.

Evelyn was getting rather sick of the Chantry mothers that kept pestering them about the Divine election. The first came after they’d finished up at the Winter Palace, but they were planning for Adamant, so there was no time to even see them; Josephine had seen to that. The second was after Adamant, but Evelyn was still so upset about the death of Erik that she’d expelled them from Skyhold when she heard they’d come from the Grand Cathedral to talk about the Divine election. But it had been five and a half months since Adamant, and she had grown to accept Erik’s passing. That didn’t mean she wanted to hear what the Revered Mother speaking with Josephine in the upper courtyard had to say.

"The matter is urgent, Lady Josephine," she was saying as Evelyn deliberated whether or not she should approach and see whatever it was the Mother was absolutely _demanding_ this time. Josephine, for one, had a calm expression painted on her face, completely neutral and even a bit friendly. But Evelyn knew her well enough. She was getting irritated, and Josephine never got irritated at anything but the cold air of the Frostbacks.

"I am well aware of that, Revered Mother," the Lady Ambassador responded sweetly, marking something down on her writing pad.

"We will need them to return to Val Royeaux as soon as possible. There are ceremonies – ordinations," she tried to explain to Josephine. Evelyn sighed. Josephine could handle it, she decided. She continued on her path toward the Herald’s Rest for a drink and to look over some paperwork in a different environment than her quarters. And to thank that young man, Sutherland, for his adventuring group’s hard work. He had done them many great services and deserved to be commended for his acts.

"That's quite impossible at the moment,” Josephine said, “However, I will see to this matter as soon as possible."

Then her plans for the afternoon went sideways when Evelyn accidentally made eye contact for a brief moment with the distraught Chantry representative. The Revered Mother’s eyes went wide in relief and she began to open her mouth.

 _Fuck, fuck, ignore her, maybe she thinks I’m someone else, just keep walking, girl, maybe she’ll go away_ , she thought to herself as she slightly picked up her pace.

"My lady Inquisitor,” the Mother called emphatically, “Please, may I have a word with you?"

 _Maker fucking damn it all._ Evelyn turned and plastered a smile on her face, one she knew did not reach her eyes. She doubted the Revered Mother noticed.

“How may I assist you, Revered Mother?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“With the political turmoil put to rest, our minds turn to a single question: the next Divine,” the Chantry woman explained, “We cannot answer it without the Left and Right hands of Divine Justinia.”

Josephine took a deep, calming breath behind the Mother. "I have already told you, Revered Mother: Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra cannot be spared from their duties."

“But surely with the support of the empire, the Inquisition will not be harmed by the loss of just two souls?”

Evelyn almost growled. "Leliana is our Spymaster and Cassandra is a necessary figure in the Inquisition’s Inner Circle. What do you need them in Val Royeaux for, exactly?"

"They were her Holiness's most trusted advisers,” the Mother shrugged, “They represent her legacy, her hopes for peace in Thedas. They would rally the grand clerics to follow as no candidate from the clergy has been able to."

She blinked in shock. “Leliana and Cassandra are candidates to become the Divine?” Evelyn asked with surprise coloring her words more than she would have wished.

"Not yet. But they could be; we need them to be,” the Chantry Mother clarified, “There is precedent – other times when the clerics remained deadlocked, a successor was chosen from outside the clergy, and everyone with the political support to succeed Justinia perished alongside her. Those who remain are unable to gather the majority of votes from the Conclave of grand clerics. They have been deadlocked for too long. Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra were Justinia's most trusted friends and advisers. Our late Divine is still held in high esteem. To honor her, the grand clerics might support one of them as successor."

“How long would the Chantry need them for?” Evelyn asked, not expecting to receive a good response.

“Several months, at least. If one of them is crowned Divine, she would not be returning to the Inquisition.”

“Then _my_ answer is no,” she decided quickly, “These aren’t just two random women; they’re key members of the Inquisition.

“For the sake of Thedas, we are asking you to make this sacrifice–”

“Stop,” Evelyn demanded in a stern voice that was louder than she had hoped. The Anchor popped in response, and the Revered Mother jumped slightly, as did Josephine.

“Let me explain something to you, _Mother_ ,” Evelyn ground out, “You don’t know anything about sacrifice. What the Champion of Andraste did in the Fade was sacrifice. What Grey Wardens do is sacrifice. What Divine Justinia did was sacrifice. Giving up Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra would not be sacrifice, it would be a death sentence. We’re on the verge of the largest battle of the Age, perhaps of the last two Ages. Taking either of them form us now would cripple us, and therefore the world. Corypheus is very close to achieving his goal of entering the Black City, and if he succeeds, he will unleash horror upon us on a scale the world has never seen before. My final answer is no. You will need to either wait until the end of the war with Corypheus or vote to elect them without their presence.”

The Revered Mother looked shocked that anyone would dare speak to her in that manner. But Evelyn didn’t care. She had been forced through so many terrible situations and forced to make so many world-shaking decisions that she no longer had the patience for anyone that thought they were owed her time or her favor. She could care less what one Revered Mother thought of her, and the answer she would return to the grand clerics was ‘no’.

Josephine, ever the diplomat, smoothed things over. "This will have to be settled later. "The Inquisitor has only just returned from a mission and has important business to attend to. You must excuse us, Revered Mother."

The Mother stood still for a moment and then bowed slightly and turned away. Josephine glanced at Evelyn.

"Don't let them detract from your victories. We've beaten Corypheus’s Wardens and stopped his intrigues,” she praised, “Soon, Corypheus will have no place to hide. Cullen is hoping to press our advantage. We'll plan our next attack when you're ready."

Evelyn nodded. “If you see either of them, have Cassandra and Leliana see me in the Herald’s Rest. I should speak to them about their candidacy,” she ordered, quickly worrying that she would lose the best Spymaster in Thedas and the woman that was a walking battering ram. She turned and went to find a quiet spot in the tavern to work in.

Evelyn was interrupted from the absolutely riveting paperwork by a small clearing of a throat. She looked up from the small corner she worked in and saw both Cassandra and Leliana standing before her, Cassandra with a small mug of ale and Leliana carrying her nug, Fudge. She seemed to take the small animal everywhere with her since her self-imposed imprisonment in her chambers. Evelyn supposed it was for emotional support, and she felt rather sad as she watched the brown animal cling to the front of Leliana’s blouse and burrow its head into her chest, as if knowing the woman was still hurting.

“Thank you for coming,” she greeted, “I’m sure both of you have things to do. Please, sit.”

They both sat across from her as Maryden kept playing a soft, sad tune on the ground floor below them; a newer song the bard had written about Evelyn’s encounter with the Nightmare. Leliana was clearly doing her best to ignore it, her face twisting briefly as a mention of Erik drifted toward them from the bard’s lips, lamenting his sacrifice and heroic death to allow the Inquisitor to escape and save the world. It even hurt Evelyn to hear it, and she had half a mind to shout down to change the song. But the ballad was quiet enough to ignore, and she had more pressing matters to deal with. It was midday, so there were few patrons in the tavern, allowing Evelyn to speak freely.

“I don’t know if either of you heard. You’re both candidates to become the Divine,” she informed the two women quietly.

The reaction was immediate. Leliana nearly dropped Fudge in shock as the animal let out a squeak, and Cassandra choked on her ale. Evelyn gave the two a moment to gather themselves and listen to her further.

“We’re _what_?” Cassandra sputtered in shock, “Why?”

“The grand clerics are in a deadlock,” Evelyn explained, “They’ve been voting for months and can’t find a replacement. One of you two will likely be able to sway them. They wanted you two to leave the Inquisition until the election is done and –”

“No,” Leliana said firmly, clutching her nug tighter. Evelyn turned her gaze on her.

“I told them that,” she soothed, “I said I wouldn’t give up my Spymaster or my fighting companion. Both of you are too important to lose for months. Not when we’re preparing to march on Corypheus himself.”

“I meant, no,” the Orlesian repeated even more strongly, “I am still grieving the love of my life. The Maker took him from me after giving him so graciously. I will not serve as the voice to Him when He abandoned me like that. Let Cassandra take the Sunburst Throne. It will not be mine.”

Evelyn nodded in understanding and turned to the Right Hand. “Cassandra? Would you accept the Sunburst Throne if you were elected?”

She fiddled with her hands for some time, clearly lost in thought as she considered the answer to the question.

“I…. if the Maker and the Chantry wish for me to serve in that capacity, then I would,” she finally said, “But not while our enemy still threatens the Maker’s creations.”

“I’ll tell Josephine that I’m putting my support in for you, then.”

“Good,” Leliana said quickly, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Bull and the Chargers appear to have bypassed Griffon Wing Keep entirely on his return trip from Adamant Fortress. I need to know why.”

Evelyn blinked. “When did you receive this information?”

“This morning. Which means he’s only days from Skyhold, at most,” the Spymaster responded. Evelyn gave a sigh.

“If he’s days from Skyhold, we’ll merely ask him when he returns. Get some rest, Leliana.”

She opened her mouth to protest but Evelyn held a hand up to silence her.

“Leliana,” she repeated sternly, “It’s only been five months. You clearly loved Erik very much, and you are still grieving. I understand. I would feel the same way if I lost Cullen. Get some rest. We’ll let you know if the Maker decides today is the day the world ends.”

She closed her mouth and nodded tightly, adjusting her grip on Fudge as the nug began to smack at her shoulder.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” she spoke quietly before turning and leaving. Evelyn watched her slink down the stairs and out of the tavern, more than one fearful eye watching her warily as she left.

“I’m worried about her,” Evelyn said when she finally left the building entirely. Cassandra nodded absently.

“As am I. She replaced weeping in her rooms with overworking herself. I found her asleep at her desk three nights ago. Leliana never truly moved on from the loss of Erik, and it is eating at her slowly,” the Seeker sighed in exhaustion, “I suppose I know how she feels. Losing a loved one is the hardest thing one must endure in life. It never truly leaves.”

Evelyn thought about Cassandra’s statement. Erik promised her once that she would eventually marry Cullen if she stayed with him long enough. And she truly did want to stay with him. He was caring, and sweet, and once she got past his history as a Templar, she realized that. She hadn’t been with him long enough to decide to marry him, but she could see herself swearing vows to him someday. It was something she never would have thought possible ten years ago. A mage like her, settling down and marrying someone? Especially a former Templar? She would have laughed at anyone who suggested the thought in Ostwick’s circle, and then cried herself to sleep in her room. Now the idea was a real possibility. But that possibility hinged on the fact that they both would need to survive the war they were fighting, and with the way Cullen was speaking during War Council meetings, the battle in the Arbor Wilds was going to be absolutely massive – possibly five or six times as big as the Battle of Adamant Fortress. Emperor Gaspard was bringing his entire army when Evelyn sent word, and the Orlesian Wardens would be there, as well. The rest of their allies and forces were to participate in the battle, bringing their final strength to nearly eighty thousand. Corypheus, however, may have matched that number; according to intelligence reports, most of the Red Templars survived the avalanche at Haven, and he had the Venatori on his side, as well. Leliana had also reported that Corypheus had kidnapped thousands more to convert them to Red Templars. And a battle that large hadn’t been seen in an Age, possibly more. Neither Cullen’s survival nor hers were guaranteed, and though she wasn’t the most religious person in the world, she prayed to the Maker more times than she could count that He saw them both through the war they fought. Because she didn’t know what she would do if she lost Cullen as well as her brother.

“So we have a location on the eluvian, then,” she said, her fists leaning against the table.

“We do,” Leliana nodded, her nug still keeping her company, “Although, I’m still rather confused as to what exactly we’re hunting after in the Arbor Wilds. With an eluvian, Corypheus could cross into the Fade in the flesh?"

"Indeed," Morrigan nodded, "The Inquisitor can attest that these artifacts still work if one knows how to use them. Erik Andersen held a portion of the network as well."

"What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?" Cullen asked, his thumb running along the pommel of his sword in worry.

"Why, he will gain his heart's desire, and take the power of a god,” the witch explained, "Or – and this is more likely – the lunatic will unleash forces that tear the world apart."

"I won't allow it. I can't," Evelyn said with conviction and more than a little anger. She could feel the Anchor humming against her flesh with her emotion, but only briefly.

"Indeed. Should Corypheus succeed, do not doubt you would be first to feel his holy wrath," Morrigan reminded her grimly.

"Pardon me, but..." Josephine swallowed thickly, "Does this mean everything's lost unless we get to the eluvian before him?"

Evelyn gave a somber nod, and the Antivan paled – a feat, considering her copper skin.

"Corypheus has a head start, no matter how fast our army moves," the Commander thought out loud, staring down at the map.

"We should gather our allies before we march, then," Josephine suggested.

"Can we wait for them? We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds," Leliana reminded him, her eyes still a little hollow.

Cullen gave her a confused look. "Without support from the soldiers? You'd lose half of them," he estimated, his voice a little more harsh than Evelyn would have liked.

"Then what _should_ we do?" Josephine shot, defending her friend from Cullen’s unexpected sharpness.

"Well, for starters, we don’t let Corypheus worry us to death," Evelyn snapped, her patience growing thin, "Josephine, have our allies send scouts to meet us in the Wilds. Leliana, your fastest agents will join them. Together, we'll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus's army until the soldiers arrive."

Morrigan let out a laugh. "Such confidence. But the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods."

"We'd be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan," Josephine said, clearly taking a snipe at the witch, "Please, lend us your expertise."

"'Tis why I came here, although it is good to see its value recognized,” Morrigan responded, either ignorant to the verbal jab or deflecting it flawlessly. Cullen turned his gaze toward Evelyn, a small smile playing on his lips. "Any further instructions, Inquisitor?"

"The Inquisition began as a handful of soldiers. Thanks to you, we're now a force that will topple a self-proclaimed god. I could ask for no better–”

The door to the War Room opened, and a runner burst through, completely out of breath. All heads in the room immediately turned toward the man in question, looks of slight frustration on their faces.

“My Lady Inquisitor,” he heaved, “I –”

“You’re interrupting an extremely important meeting,” Evelyn scowled at the boy, “You had better have good reason.”

“The Iron Bull and the Chargers have returned,” the young man panted, “And he brought the Hero of Ferelden with him.”

Morrigan had changed into a raven and was out the open door the instant he mentioned her husband. Evelyn blinked in shock and glanced at her advisors, who had equal looks of surprise on their faces. She turned back to the boy.

“That, I will consider an acceptable reason to interrupt our planning,” she told the runner as the four of them moved quickly past him.

The entire castle was abuzz with people in the courtyard. Some were staring down from the battlements, others from the upper courtyard, and even more still were gathered in the lower courtyard near the gatehouse. Evelyn quickly rushed down the staircase to see Morrigan with her arms wrapped tightly around a man – more tightly than she had ever seen anyone embrace a person. And the embrace was not surprising. She expected it, from the way Morrigan spoke of Aedan Cousland. What _was_ surprising, however, was Morrigan openly sobbing into his neck as all around the couple stared on in shocked silence. Everyone in Skyhold knew of the Witch of the Wilds that haunted the castle. They knew of her son, and they told their own children to stay away from the boy, lest they be cursed by his witch mother. Very few knew who his father was. But they knew the man she was embracing, even if they never saw his face before. A deeply scarred, rather tall, and clearly confident man wearing dark armor bearing the sigil of the Warden-Commander, his shield bearing both the royal crest of Ferelden and the griffon of the Grey Wardens, his personal sigil. A glowing blue blade hung from the right side of his belt, which the story says was formed from the metal of a falling star. On his left, a sword made of dragon bone. A mabari hound sat by his side, staring up at the couple as they embraced.

The feared Witch of the Wilds was embracing Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden, _The_ Warden, as only a lover would. And everyone in Skyhold saw, and Morrigan, despite seeming a rather private woman, did not care. Evelyn gave them a moment together, and then another, and then a third. Morrigan was clinging to her husband like he would disappear if she let go. She was lifted slightly off the ground every few moments by the Hero of Ferelden, who seemed to be embracing the witch as tightly as he could without harming the petite woman.

Finally, he set her down and they released their embrace, and Morrigan gripped his head and planted a burning, almost scandalous kiss on his lips. Evelyn decided it was the right time to approach the legend, so she apprehensively walked toward the couple. Morrigan wiped her eyes and looked up at the man.

“You took the ring off,” she said with a watery voice, even as he slipped a ring back onto his finger.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Aedan Cousland responded quietly in a deep, loving voice, “Couldn’t do that with the ring.”

She let out a small laugh. The mabari at The Warden’s side began poking her leg with his nose, and Morrigan bent down slightly to pet the war hound.

“Yes, I missed you, too, Rabbit,” she said in an exasperated but endearing voice. The dog huffed once and nuzzled deeper into her leg.

Rabbit. The most legendary man of the age, and one of the most legendary in history, named his dog Rabbit. Evelyn found that rather amusing, for some reason. It made him more human – something that she imagined he would greatly appreciate. She knew all too well about losing one’s self to a title.

Morrigan turned to them, a genuine smile on her lips even as her eyes were red and puffy. She still clasped The Warden’s hand tightly as she turned toward Evelyn.

“Inquisitor, my husband, Aedan Cousland,” she introduced. A wave of shocks and awed murmurs rippled through the crowd, as if confirming what they already suspected.

Evelyn glanced at The Warden sheepishly. He was a large man, about the size of Cullen, yet with a more cut build and a more dangerous look in his icy blue eyes. His chestnut brown hair fell in straight mane to his shoulders, the locks on his brow held back by a tie that drew the hair on his crown to the back of his neck. His beard was mostly stubble despite what Evelyn imagined was a long journey, as though he were anticipating the arrival. But what intimidated Evelyn about him was the myriad of scars dotting his face. Deep triplet lines ran from his jaw down his neck and under his armor and clothes, and a scar bridged his long, slightly crooked nose and clearly once cleaved it mirrored the way Hawke donned her war paint. Another thin line made its way across his left temple, and no hair grew where it lay. He stood deathly still even as he gave her a nod of greeting.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” he said, his voice a deep, resonating rumble, slightly raspy, “I’ve heard much from Iron Bull and his Chargers. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

Evelyn swallowed heavily. “It’s an honor to have you at Skyhold, Warden-Commander Cousland,” she managed to get out despite her timidness.

He rolled his eyes. “Please. You’re not a Warden. Just call me Aedan. I’m not one to stand on ceremony.”

“Well then, Aedan,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake, “Welcome to Skyhold.”

He took it firmly, giving a strong shake. “My thanks, Inquisitor.”

“Inquisitor?” she raised an eyebrow, “If I’m not calling you by your title, you aren’t calling me by mine, either. Call me Evelyn.”

He gave a small laugh. “Well, then, Evelyn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

They released their handshake and Aedan glanced around, catching Leliana’s gaze. He gave a small smile and Morrigan released his hand as he outstretched his arms.

“Red,” he said endearingly. She gave a small smile and embraced Aedan briefly, setting Fudge down next to Rabbit, who immediately began sniffing at the nug and she at him.

“It’s good to see you safe, Aedan,” she said into his chest.

“You too, Red. Glad to be back.”

“Hey, boss,” Bull’s voice came from behind them as he approached with an elf and two dwarves, “I apologize for not checking in at Griffon Wing. Had to keep this a secret from the soldiers there so it didn’t get back to Lady Morrigan. You know how they are.”

“Gossips, I know,” Evelyn smiled, “Given the circumstances, I think I’ll let it slide this once.”

“Even if she hadn’t, it was worth it, Bull,” Aedan laughed. Evelyn could clearly see a budding friendship between the two, but she assumed six weeks on the road together would cause that to happen.

“Oh, before I forget,” Aedan added, turning toward the dwarves and elf, “These are Wardens Sigrun, Velanna, and Oghren, three of my first four recruits after the Blight and part of my kill team when in the Deep Roads.”

“And your friend since the Blight, too,” the male dwarf, who Evelyn assumed was Oghren, said, “Don’t forget that, ya bloody nug humper.”

There was a rumble of laughter and then a temporary silence. Evelyn cleared her throat and looked around.

“Well, now that we’ve been introduced, allow me to give you a tour of –”

“Just a moment,” Aedan smiled, holding up his hand, “We have a gift for you. Picked it up in the Western Approach not long after we met Bull and his crew.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it?”

Aedan gestured into the crowd, where everyone gathered turned and looked at a tall man, his hood up as he leaned against the stone wall; Evelyn wasn’t sure how she hadn’t seen him before. He pulled himself from his position and approached, pulling his hood down as he did so.

Evelyn felt her heart stop as the entirety of Skyhold gasped, completely stunned. She knew the man before her. He was the same as he had always been but for his eyes, which glowed as a spirit’s would. His beard was cut to its usual length and his hair was cleaned, but he looked exhausted. He cleared his throat and gazed at her in an incredibly unnerving manner. His voice, too, sounded, odd, as though it were slightly doubled.

“Hi.”

* * *

Erik didn’t know Evelyn had that much strength behind her, but he quickly learned as she threw herself into him with a shriek. He let out a grunt and wrapped his arms around his sister as she nearly tackled him to the ground and crushed the air out of his lungs. But the painful pressure was a relief. It was a reminder that as much as he was a spirit, he was human. He always would be, and he knew he didn’t have to choose either, because he was both and neither at the same time.

It was also a relief because he could see his sister again.

“I thought you were dead,” Evelyn murmured into his chest. He ran his hands along her back soothingly he slowly rocked her back and forth.

“I know,” Erik said quietly, his slightly warped voice still a slight oddity to him, “I’m sorry, Ev. But you needed to get out of there, and I _really_ wanted to kill that bastard.”

She looked up at him. “And did you?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled, “The Nightmare is dead as fuck.”

“How did you kill it?” she asked in shock, “It was massive. And ancient.”

“Well, that’s only one thing it has on me,” he shrugged, “I’m over twelve hundred years old. But that doesn’t matter. I ran out of rounds for my rifle so I let it eat me and then I killed it from the inside.”

“You did _what?_ ”

“I Jack Sparrowed the Nightmare.”

“You know I don’t have a reference for that.”

“Well, I’m connected to the Fade now,” he suggested, “Maybe I’ll come and find you some night and show you my birth world.”

“You can do that?”

“I’m a thousand year old spirit of will that’s seen every major historical event since the First Blight,” he smiled, “I know how the Fade works. I’ll just take you to my territory.”

“You have territory?” she asked skeptically.

“Spirits can be rather territorial creatures,” Solas spoke up, approaching slowly from the crowd where the rest of the Inner Circle stood, “And Erik is both human and a very old spirit. If he killed the Nightmare, its old domain would be his.”

“Got my own little kingdom in the Fade,” Erik chuckled, “Speaking of which, here.”

He reached into his belt and grabbed the small jar he found while wandering the Fade and handed it to Evelyn. She took it and examined it with a look of confusion.

“This is dirt.”

“A jar of dirt, yes,” he confirmed, “From the Black City.”

She dropped it like it were a hurlock head. There were gasps and more than a few screams as people began to back away from the jar as though it were a live warhead. Erik laughed.

“I’m kidding! Maker’s mercy, you really think I would go in there? It’s just dirt from the Fade,” he called loudly enough for everyone to hear. Evelyn scowled at him and took the jar of dirt.

“A thousand years old and still as much an ass as you were when you thought you were thirty,” she grumbled.

“I may be old, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun,” Erik shrugged. _Look at Solas. He’s at least four times my age and still fucks with people subtly._

“So, you’re back,” Evelyn sighed studying his eyes, which he knew were glowing, “And still you… mostly. What now?”

“Now…” Erik turned around and faced Leliana. She was staring at him as if seeing a ghost, standing deathly still and paler than snow. Her eyes were watery and Erik could barely tell she was breathing at all.

“Leliana, I…” he began, trying to speak further but choking on his words. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. That he was a reckless idiot and that she was the best thing that ever happened to him, and that he never wanted to leave her side again but knew that wish wasn’t possible. They were probably rather close to marching on the Arbor Wilds, and then Corypheus would reopen the Breach. It was not ideal. But he could try and explain. Try to say he was sorry for the heartache he’d put her through.

But no words came. Her lip quivered once and she scooped up Fudge from where she was sitting next to Rabbit. She stormed past him without a word and climbed the stairs back toward the castle. Erik sighed and hung his head.

“Wait. Are you two…?” Aedan asked suddenly, stunned at what he’d just witnessed.

“Yes. Though the permanency of that arrangement is now in question, it seems,” Erik sighed as he stared up at the path Leliana had taken.

“You just now picked that up? Not while we were on the road and he got all starry-eyed every time she was brought up?” Bull asked skeptically.

“Aedan is not good at reading those kinds of things, trust me,” Morrigan covered for her husband.

“His eyes fucking glow! How am I supposed to know when he gets ‘starry-eyed’?” The Warden pointed out incredulously, “You’d better go talk to her. I’d hate to kill a thousand year old… whatever you are that came from another world because he hurt my friend. Especially one I’d just befriended.”

Erik said nothing and climbed the staircase out of the courtyard. Everywhere his eyes fell, the denizens of Skyhold flinched. He supposed it made sense, he looked more spirit than Cole did, even if they didn’t know the truth. He entered the empty hall and climbed the stairs in the Inquisitor’s Tower sullenly. Anticipation built in his belly with every step, further anchoring his humanity but filling him with fear at the same time. The Orlesian woman was part of the reason he’d kept his humanity; Erik wasn’t sure what would happen if he lost her to his stupidity. Before he knew it, he was before the door to his and Leliana’s chambers. He knocked once and entered despite his body screaming to flee.

Leliana was sitting on their bed with her back against its head. Fudge lay curled in her lap as she snoozed silently. Erik could see a tear streak on her cheek as he approached slowly. He took a deep, calming breath and pushed the words he was trying to say earlier from his chest.

“Leliana, I am so sorry,” he began, “What happened was not something I’d planned. I never meant to leave you alone like that. It was the last thing I wanted to have happen.”

She didn’t respond. He sighed and kicked at the toes of his boots like a child.

“I left you alone and thinking I was dead. I tried to find you while I was in the Fade, but… I guess it didn’t matter in the end.”

“Was that you? That night, when I saw you with the woman with horned hair and the other one with purple eyes?” she asked softly.

“Yes. The woman with purple eyes is a friend of mine. A desire… demon, spirit, whatever you want to call her. She and I have known each other since shortly after my rebirth as a spirit back in the Ancient Age. She was there for me at the beginning, when I didn’t remember who I was before. She taught me everything about Thedas back then. About the Veil. About mortals.”

“About mortals?” she questioned in barely more than a whisper with more than a bit of fear, “Are you not a mortal?”

“I am… and I’m not. I’m a spirit of will, Leliana. I’m about a thousand, two hundred and sixty four years old, by my own math. I think I came into existence in the Fade in about -394 Ancient, the year after the First Blight began,” he shrugged, “But it’s hard to tell. Time’s fuzzy in the Fade. Especially when you’re living as a being for whom time has little meaning.”

“So you’re not mortal.”

“No, I am,” he tried to explain, “I was a man before I was a spirit. I’ve always been both and neither. I chose to live a mortal life. I’m like Cole, but the opposite. I went from being human to spirit, and then back to human. Now I’m somewhere in-between.”

“Explain.”

“I’m a very old spirit, Leliana. One of the oldest I know of. Only a handful are older than me. My friend Desire, by about a thousand years. A sloth demon I ran into about… six hundred hears ago? It was a couple thousand years old. The envy demon I killed at Therinfal was about my age. Solas’s spirit friend Wisdom… it’s probably three or four thousand years old, maybe older. The Nightmare was even older. That’s all that I can think of off the top of my head. If I die, I could reform as a spirit again, but I wouldn’t be me. And I wouldn’t want that anyways. I chose to live as a human. So when I die – truly die, I mean – I’ll pass beyond the Fade.”

“Where do the souls of the dead go?” Leliana pressed, “Do spirits know?”

“We don’t. We know the souls of mortals pass through the Fade on their journey because we see it happen, but we don’t know beyond that. I’ve seen it millions of times and I’ve never seen beyond the moment they leave the Fade,” he sighed, thinking about the macabre subject, “I suppose I’ll find out when my time comes.”

She didn’t respond. Erik studied her for a few moments longer, but she seemed to be unable to look at him. He blinked back burning tears, the backs of his eyelids slightly brighter with the glow his eyes produced. Another thing to get used to.

“If you don’t want to be with me anymore, because of what I am or what I put you through, I understand,” Erik murmured, hard as it was to say, “I… I’ll let you be.”

He turned and began to leave, feeling dejected and surprisingly weak – physically weak, as though he were ill and dying. He had reached the door when Leliana spoke again.

“Please don’t leave. You were gone for so long. We had a funeral for you,”she called, her voice breaking, “A thousand flaming arrows, just like you asked. It was the hardest thing to see, knowing you were truly gone as that ship went in flames. Now knowing you’re still here… I don’t care what you are. I just don’t want you to leave again.”

Erik froze and began to cry quietly. He turned around and faced her once more, his jaw clenching and unclenching in an attempt to keep his emotions in check.

“I won’t,” he promised, bringing his knees up onto the bed, “I’ll be right here. I’m yours forever, if you’ll have me.”

She yanked Erik toward her and threw her arms around his torso tightly as Fudge scrambled to get away from them. It was all the answer either of them needed. She tightened her grip and buried her forehead in the crook of his neck, and Erik basked in the feeling of love and home as they wept together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Phoenix by Satyricon feat. Sivert Høyem - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6PiB4O1tzM


	50. Abeyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik's time in the Fade is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Age is owned by BioWare and EA, this is just me goofing off.

Aedan followed his wife into the tower on the far side of the garden, which she said was hers and Kieran’s chambers while they were living at Skyhold. And his now, as well, for as long as Morrigan was with the Inquisition, he would be with them, too. The chambers themselves were rather large, with a living area immediately after the small foyer, a washroom on the right, and another small room to the left, its door closed. A staircase led to the floor above them.

“Kieran’s room is on the left. Ours is upstairs,” Morrigan was saying, “Kieran should be in his room, studying.”

Aedan followed her to the door, where she knocked twice and opened the door. Rabbit sniffed the air and immediately began wagging his short tail, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his ears perking upright.

“Kieran?” Morrigan called, “There’s someone here to see you.” She gave him a look and a small nod, and Aedan walked into the room.

He was met with his son. His pride and joy, his hopes and dreams and aspirations all wrapped up into one being. Kieran was bigger than he’d last seen him, his shoulders a bit wider and his hair slightly longer. His eyes still held the same unnatural intelligence, but as he rounded the corner and Kieran realized who he was, his eyes were only those of a child’s. It broke Aedan’s heart thinking they could be anything else.

“Father!” Kieran shouted as he sprinted toward him, his book and studies completely forgotten. Kieran barreled into him just as Aedan got down low enough to embrace his boy properly, and the force with which Kieran hit him nearly knocked the wind out of him. He gave a small laugh and wrapped his arms around his son.

“Hey, little man,” he greeted endearingly, “Maker, you’ve gotten so big! Let me get a look at you.”

He pulled back just enough to study his son again, to ingrain his image into his mind as though it were the last time he were to ever see him again. It was an awful thought, but one that Aedan knew was a possibility. So he let himself have just a moment to take in his son that he shouldn’t have, the boy he hadn’t seen since he was eight and some days had worried he would never see again.

“I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” Kieran said, his already raspy voice cracking even more. Aedan smiled sadly at him sadly, his chest aching in a way he’d never felt before.

“I’d never leave you and your mother alone like that,” he told him, “And I’m not leaving like that again. I promise.”

“So you’re cured?” Morrigan asked, “You’re free of the Calling?”

“Free of the Calling, but not of the abilities,” Aedan confirmed, “The Taint is no longer a part of me.”

“But you can still sense the Darkspawn?”

“It’s a bit more difficult, but I can still sense them. And my strength and endurance haven’t changed, either,” he nodded.

“Which means your appetite won’t have waned,” Morrigan drawled, “And here I thought food enough for two would suffice, but it seems we’ll need enough for four. And a dog.”

“But you won’t hear the song,” Kieran asked, his voice slightly different. Aedan knew Urthemiel was listening.

“I won’t,” he smiled, “Not without the Taint in me. And I can’t get it again, either.”

It was at that point that Rabbit decided Aedan was hogging the time with his son and nosed between them, his entire back half shaking from excitement. Kieran let out a laugh and wrapped his arms around the mabari’s thick neck, Rabbit nuzzling himself closer to the boy he protected with endless vigilance.

“You’ll have to catch up to your father later, little man,” Morrigan said, “He and I need to… talk. And he needs rest after such a long journey.”

Kieran nodded and gave his father a beaming smile.

“I missed you, father,” he grinned as he dodged wet kisses from Rabbit.

“I missed you too, little man,” Aedan smiled, “I love you more than you know. Rabbit, stay with him.”

His dog huffed once and went back to his fluffy assault. Morrigan grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs, her hips swaying just enough to get Aedan’s heart racing with the knowledge of why she’d pulled him away from their son. She swiftly opened the door at the top of the flight of steps and Aedan was met with a surprisingly large room, one with its own washroom, a big enough bed for them both, and a view of the rather lovely garden outside. Aedan closed the door behind him and Morrigan sealed it with a wave of her hand.

“So, this is where you’ve been staying,” he murmured as he looked around at the rather large room.

“Lady Josephine was more than accommodating ,” she nodded, “Although, it’s been rather cold here, all alone.”

Aedan laughed at her reference of their first time together during the Blight and he wrapped his arms around her as he pulled her back into his chest, his hands coming to rest on her stomach. She gave a noise of contentment and pressed backward into him as he found his resolve tested immensely.

“We can’t have you cold in this place,” he murmured into her ear.

“’Tis a good thing I find you rather warm.” She twisted in his arms and pressed her cheek against his, he felt the warmth and life of her breath against his ear. He suppressed a shudder, but only barely.

“If your body is free of the Blight, does that not also give us a possibility of another child?” she whispered before nibbling his earlobe.

Aedan’s resolve snapped like a twig and crumbled to dust. He assailed her neck as he frantically worked at her clothes, and Morrigan’s breath caught in surprise and pleasure. She let out a laugh as he dragged them both to the bed, and Aedan thanked himself that he insisted on bathing before entering Skyhold.

* * *

Evelyn gazed into the mountains from her balcony, taking a break from the frantic afternoon. She took a breath of fresh air and closed her eyes, then froze suddenly as she heard a shriek. Then another. It sounded almost what she imagined a genlock being murdered sounded like. And it was coming form Morrigan’s tower in the garden. She quickly realized what was happening and moved inside, shutting both sets of doors to her balconies before it got any worse.

* * *

Erik wasn’t sure why he and Aedan were being held like they were. It was as though it were an interrogation. The two of them sat in the War Room with confused looks on their faces, staring across the table at Leliana, Evelyn, Morrigan, Cullen, and Josephine. The five studied the two of them in silence for several minutes, with Morrigan and Aedan stealing glances like crushing schoolchildren. A bird tapped on the stone wall outside the War Room.

“If this is a staring contest, you five are doing a terrible job,” Erik finally said, breaking the silence. Aedan suppressed a laugh and it came out as a snort.

“This is us trying to figure out what to do with you two,” Evelyn grunted, “Aedan is a living legend. His presence alone is making people uneasy as much as they’re in awe of him.”

“I can’t help that,” Aedan held his hands up, “If people are intimidated by me, that’s on them. I’m a rather nice person, I like to think.”

Evelyn glanced at Aedan briefly. “And you, Erik –”

“And I what?”

“There have been… complaints,” Josephine spoke up, “Rumors. That you are not the man known as the Champion of Andraste and rather a demon impersonating him. Or that you were possessed in the Fade.”

“Can’t possess someone if you’re already a spirit,” Erik shrugged, “Let me guess. These rumors were started by our darling Vivienne?”

“They were,” Leliana nodded.

“Let me be clear. I know you’re not possessed,” Evelyn spoke firmly, “If you were, I would be able to feel it. So would Morrigan, and Warden Velanna, and Solas, and any of the other mages you’ve come into contact with since you’ve returned to Thedas. But we need to put these rumors to rest before we can go any further.”

Erik sighed. “Bring the entire Inner Circle in here then. If I’m going to explain everything, I might as well do it with everyone here.”

“Erik, are you sure?” Cullen asked, “You could simply explain it to us, and we could spread it from –”

“No. I want everyone to hear it. And I want to threaten Vivienne a little.”

Evelyn pursed her lips. “Fine. But if you start something, I’m not stepping in.”

“Nor am I,” Leliana murmured, “I’m still quite upset with you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Evelyn stood from the War Table and strode over to the guard outside the door, whom she apparently had posted due to some runner interrupting them yesterday when they returned with Aedan. She said something to the guard and returned, and then they waited.

Twenty minutes later, everyone in the Inner Circle had gathered, including Hawke and Isabela. Which meant that The Warden, the Champion of Kirkwall, and the Inquisitor were all in the same room, which forced a small smile out of Erik.

“Something you want to say, Erik?” Evelyn asked dryly.

“Not particularly,” he giggled, “You wouldn’t likely get it anyways.”

“So you brought us here,” Dorian crossed his arms, “What’s this about?”

“Erik is going to explain himself,” Leliana leveled a glare at him, followed by Josephine, who was definitely upset with him for what he put his girlfriend through. He would deal with that later. Or when she tried to cut his nuts off, which he would avoid if he could.

“I don’t want to hear anything from a demon,” Vivienne sniffed, turning to leave, “I have work to do.”

“Me neither,” Sera shivered, also turning to go.

“Leave, and you’re both expelled from the Inquisition,” Evelyn threatened without taking her eyes off Erik. Both froze and returned to the table. Erik turned his gaze toward Vivienne and Sera, knowing they would internally squirm with the glowing his eyes were doing.

“First of all, Vivienne, I know you’ve been spreading misinformation that I’m either not Erik or that I’m possessed,” he said, “I’m putting that to bed right now. I can’t be possessed, because I’m a spirit. And a human. I’m both.”

“And I care what your opinion is because?” she scoffed.

“Because in the end, you aren’t that important,” he threatened, knowing her greatest fear was irrelevance, “Your continued presence on Thedas is not a necessity. I have some things to say, and your undermining of my efforts are not going to cost me everything I hold dear.”

“Erik, we called everyone in here to explain yourself. Not so you could threaten our allies. We all know you hate Vivienne,” Evelyn muttered in exasperation. Erik took a deep breath and calmed himself.

“You’re right. I won’t apologize, but you’ve been called in here because I need to explain what I am,” he explained, “And to tell you all what happened in the Fade.”

“We know what happened in the Fade,” Marian reminded him, “Some of us even got front row seats.”

“Not during the battle. After I stayed behind.”

“Why?” Bull asked, his eye narrowing. Erik could feel Solas staring intently at him through his peripheral view.

“Because what happened in the Fade, and how I got out, may impact what we choose to do next,” Erik explained.

He cleared his throat and began his tale.

~~~

Erik clawed himself from the remains of the Nightmare, through the cut in its abdomen and out onto the greenish-black stones of the Fade. He was covered in viscera and coughing ichor from his lungs, his armor ruined and his skin red and raw. His fingernails were half gone from ripping and tearing through the inside of the ancient, gargantuan demon, and he could no longer tell what blood was his and what blood was his foe’s. He was exhausted in more ways than one and his mind felt different than before he’d fallen into the realm of spirits and dreams, though he couldn’t say how; if someone were to ask him, he would simply say he felt as though he were whole once more, though he knew that not to be true. He’d changed when he learned of his spiritual origins in Thedas, and now he could no longer tell if he was a spirit or a human. The thought was disturbing, but he pushed it aside and focused merely on the drive he felt to survive no matter the cost.

Survive. That was what he’d always done. Survive and move forward on nothing but will and boiling blood despite every inch of his physical self begging to stop and rest. Whether it was on Earth or Thedas, he pushed on and on through often insane situations, ignoring the screaming in his body and the tantalizing call of peace for survival and drive. He knew that rest meant death in many situations, but rest sounded rather appealing right about then. Which was not something a spirit of will would say, but something a man might think. The thought comforted him as he pulled his way out of his dead enemy and into the odd air of the Fade.

The barrel of his rifle caught on flesh, and his neck and head were yanked backward suddenly. He cursed and twisted in place as much as he could, drawing his shortsword and sawing the weapon free of its entrapment. Even in death, the Nightmare fought to keep him prisoner. He would not let it. The demon’s flesh snapped, releasing his Earthly weapon and sending him tumbling forward. Erik smacked the ground and rolled once before coming to a rest face down on cold, wet stone. With a groan he pushed himself to his knees and crawled to the carcass of the monster he had slain before twisting and resting his exhausted body next to the hole he’d cut in the great beast’s belly. He heaved a thick breath and looked up into the green, infinite sky of the realm that should have been his grave.

“I told you I would kill you,” Erik laughed weakly, “You son of a bitch.”

One of the Nightmare’s too-many legs twitched in response, its nerves still feebly firing even after its body had long since perished. He spat a glob of blood at the leg that had twitched and wiped his brow before closing his eyes. The air felt different now. Less oppressive and fearful. The Black City still loomed overhead, he knew, but the area beneath it seemed to shift and change with the death of its previous resident. Erik supposed it was because it was _his_ area now, in a way. Spirits and demons were territorial in that way. He’d never had his own territory as a spirit, rather opting to stay in Desire’s little area of the Fade and wander outside on occasion to watch the mortals in their struggles to survive and live happily. He let out a laugh. It was odd, thinking of it that way. _Mortals_ struggling to survive, as though he weren’t one himself. Though he supposed he wasn’t. He was human, there was no doubt about that. No spirit would feel happiness and joy and sadness and hate and love as he had done. But no mortal would ever have the will that he had himself – the unending desire to accomplish every goal and overcome every obstacle, no matter the cost. He supposed if he died, he would dissipate and reform as a spirit somewhere else, at some point. Maybe not. Maybe he was too rooted to the mind and life of a human, and when he died he would pass beyond the Fade and to whatever waited the spirits of the living when they left their bodies. He’d seen it before. Countless times, to millions of souls, he’d seen them pass through the Veil and into the great beyond past the Fade. He’d asked a spirit of wisdom what happened to the souls of the dead, once. It hadn’t known and claimed none knew. None of his ilk during his thousand years in the land of dreams ever seemed to know, so he supposed it was knowledge that only the dead were privy to.

Erik thought about that last bit. A thousand years. He was old. He knew that now. He felt it in his bones. Everything had returned to him during his battle with Nightmare. So much knowledge, so much history. He supposed that if he were simply a spirit, it would merely be interesting memories. But not to him. Not now. He knew he could use those thousand years of history as wisdom. Wisdom that none but perhaps the Old Gods and Evnauris surpassed. Even Corypheus, as ancient as Erik, did not have a thousand years of knowledge with him, as he was sealed in a slumber by the Wardens. His knowledge of the past was now a greater tool than his knowledge of the future. Something that he could use to change the world… if he ever got back to Thedas.

And that was the problem. Getting back to Thedas was going to be rather difficult, if not impossible. He didn’t have a magic sewing machine strapped to his hand like Evelyn did, and he doubted he could convince enough spirits and demons to converge in one place to weaken the Veil enough to slip through. Even if he did slip through, it was anyone’s guess where he would end up. Spacetime in the Fade was rather odd, he remembered that much. One could be in one place in the Fade, but that place didn’t correspond to a specific place in Thedas. If he went through the Veil, he could wind up in Nevarra, or Rivain, or the middle of the ocean. Or worse, Par Vollen. And since time was indeterminate in the Fade, he could wind up being dumped out in 9:50 Dragon, for all he knew. After all, he spent twelve hundred years in the Fade and didn’t even know it.

But he knew he wanted out. He had things to complete and people to return to. His sister, yes, but also Leliana. His gut twisted at the thought of her. He’d left her alone, likely devastated and believing he was dead. He wasn’t sure if the box would open if he was in the Fade. If it had, he would be thought dead by her for weeks before Evelyn could return and tell her of his decision to stay in the Fade, which was a death sentence in all but words. If it hadn’t opened, however, Leliana would likely refuse to believe he was dead, which could be worse. She could become fixated on him and drive herself mad thinking about it. No, he decided. He had to return to spare her madness at worst and soul-crushing grief at best. He had to return because he wanted to see her again. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her in happiness. He wanted to protect her from any harm that might come her way, despite knowing she could more than protect herself. He wanted to wake up next to her every day and know that she was there for him, and he for her. He wanted a family that he could call his own, one that he could care for and watch grow in joy in a world he never thought he would see in his wildest dreams.

He swore that if he ever got out of the Fade, he would ask Leliana to marry him despite leaving her like he did.

But not now. He was tired. Far too tired to do anything. The Nightmare would take time to dissipate, perhaps millennia. So he could sit here for a while and rest against its corpse. One gift to himself after the hardest fight of his life. He knew he didn’t need to sleep, being a spirit – at least in part – but his eyelids felt heavy as he rested his head against his kill. So Erik decided to give himself one boon before he worked to find a way back to Thedas.

He closed his eyes and decided to rest, if only for a bit.

“I never expected to find a spirit of will just lying around. What, did the mortal world turn you into Sloth?”

Erik opened his eyes at the feminine voice just enough to see its owner. She looked exactly as she did before he’d left the Fade, with a body that would make Isabela jealous, unnaturally white skin with a grey tint, violet eyes that glowed just a bit, a small, sharp nose, and lips painted so red he wondered if it were blood. Her hair fell in thick black curls down her back and shoulders, held back from her forehead by a small set of horns. The hair flowed in the odd winds of the Fade. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts as she pouted down at him, her fingers long and thin and ending in razor-sharp nails stronger than claws.

“Hey, Desire,” he greeted groggily.

“Hey? Hey doesn’t cut it!” the demon snapped, “You bailed. Went to the mortal realm and left your best friend here.”

“Wasn’t exactly my choice,” he groaned as he drew himself up from the ground, “As soon as I remembered who I was before the Fade, I got pulled through the Veil. Been with the mortals ever since.” She pulled her lips between her teeth and let a breath out her nose.

“I know. I’ve been watching your little ‘Inquisition’,” she sighed before pulling him into a hug. Erik embraced his oldest friend readily, the human part of his mind slightly surprised at the warmth of her skin.

“I missed you,” she said.

“I know,” he murmured, “I’m sorry for leaving you like that.”

She pulled back and studied him for a moment. “I think I can forgive you, especially with how cute you look as a human.” She tapped him on the nose and Erik rolled his eyes.

“I’m taken, you know.”

“Oh, believe me, I _know_ ,” Desire giggled, “The shit you two got up to? It could’ve fed me for another Age.”

“Desire…”

“I mean, seriously, how have neither of you been hurt?”

“Desire, I don’t want to –”

“A dagger? _Really_? She could have just tied your hands if she didn’t want you to move, you know.”

“Okay! We’re done talking about this.”

She laughed. “Oh, it’s just like tempting mortals back before you left! You get so flustered!”

Erik groaned in embarrassment and sat down on Nightmare’s corpse. “How’d you find me, anyways?”

“It wasn’t hard. Everything in the Fade knew when you killed Nightmare,” she shrugged, “Hasn’t been a territory change like that since around the time the Qun invaded.”

Erik squinted. “Yeah. I didn’t let you in. This is my territory now. How’d you get here?”

“Around the time Nightmare died, the territory was vacant for a quick moment. I just slipped through the cracks. It was just a matter of finding you after that,” Desire explained.

He sighed. “Well, you’re here. And I can’t get out. What now?”

She cocked her head. “Why would you want to get out?”

“The woman that used a dagger to keep me still?”

She gave a throaty laugh. “That’s a good reason if I ever knew one. Should’ve chosen desire, you know.”

“I have you for that.”

“That you do,” she hummed before looking around, “You should really change the look of this place.”

“I’ll get to that at some point,” he grunted, popping his back, “I’m connected back to the Fade again. I’ll handle it when I sleep.”

“Wait, why not now?”

“I’m going to find a rift. Get the hell out of here.” He grabbed his longsword and threw it in his belt before adjusting his rifle on his back and glancing around briefly.

“Care if I come along?”

“Get too close and you’ll probably come through,” he reminded her, “Sure you’re okay with that?”

Desire shrugged. “Might be fun. Long as I don’t go crazy on the way through, I’ll be fine.”

Erik sighed and closed his eyes, feeling for the weakest point in the Veil nearby. The exact points always changed when the Veil tore and resealed. He wasn’t getting out through his territory. He felt a slight tug and opened his eyes, knowing which direction to go.

~~~

“Wait, you’re friends with a desire demon?” Aedan held up his hand.

“Yep.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Nope.”

“She never tried to possess you?” Cullen asked, slightly pale.

“I’m a spirit, too, Cullen,” he reminded the Commander, “What’s there to possess? Besides, she’s never actually wanted to possess anyone before. She’s a bit… odd. Just likes playing matchmaker with interesting mortal couples. Like our dear witch and Warden here.”

Morrigan blinked. “What?”

“Anyways…” he continued, ignoring Morrigan’s surprise.

~~~

He climbed over yet another crag of rock and past another shattered eluvian, reminding himself that he probably should figure out whether he still had control of the network when he got back to Thedas. He kept moving toward the weak point in the Veil.

“You’re looking more like your spirit self, you know,” Desire commented as she walked beside him, “And sounding like it.”

“Am I?” he asked, suddenly realizing his voice sounded a bit doubled – almost like Justice/Anders.

“I just saw you realize your voice sounded different,” she teased, “Your eyes are back to blue, too.”

Erik glanced around for a puddle but didn’t find one. “You couldn’t tell me this when we were back in my territory? Where there was a pond that I could use to look through?”

“Didn’t think about it before now,” she shrugged, “It’s been a bit gradual.”

He grunted as he tripped over a small hole. “I don’t remember you being –”

She gripped his shoulder tightly. “Stop talking,” Desire hissed, “And don’t move.”

He froze and slowly turned his head to where Desire was staring, stone still. And then he mentally cursed.

A pack of gibbering horrors were gazing at them about twenty meters away. He didn’t know why he didn’t sense them, but he knew he should probably get ready to fight. The little bastards were particularly aggressive. Skeletal heads and a mane like a lion were oddly perched on a body that looked like a velociraptor. There were about a dozen of them, gazing intently at the pair of spirits for almost a minute, then they made that horrible babbling noise that Erik suddenly recalled and began moving swiftly toward them.

Erik cursed and drew his swords once more, getting just slightly irritated at the bastards that were charging them. Desire flexed her fingers and snarled as the first horror snapped at her thigh. She grabbed its neck with her nails that may as well have been claws and squeezed hard. It made a chirping noise before its neck snapped, its body already dissolving quickly.

Erik, for his part, drove his shortsword through the bony skull of the one on his left before sweeping his other blade in a long arc that caught three at once. He could see his skin shimmering slightly blue like it had back before he was human, and he knew he would never be completely human again. Nor would he want to. He felt invigorated and motivated, more annoyed that the horrors were in his and Desire’s way than anything. They were, what, ten times older than the little bastards? What in the world made this little pack of gibbering horrors think they could take them on?

Desire swatted the last one into his sword, and as soon as it started it was over. Erik grunted and kicked one out of the way.

“I really hate those things,” he mentioned to Desire.

“Everyone hates them. Even other fear demons,” she sighed, wiping viscera off her nails, “We should go. That had to attract attention.”

“The two of us back together?” he laughed, “Yeah. That attracted attention.”

They moved on through a small ravine, passing an odd table with a small jar sitting atop it. Erik grinned at the item and swiped it from its resting place, scooping up a small amount of dirt from the ground. When he stood, Desire was looking at him strangely.

“I’m gonna fuck with people when I get back,” he explained.

“I rubbed off on you too much,” she drawled.

“Shouldn’t have acted like my mother when I was young, then,” Erik shrugged. She stared at him in shock, mouth agape.

“I did _not_ act like a mother. That’s a mortal thing.”

“Sure you didn’t, mom,” he grinned. She shoved him in irritation and he let out a laugh. Looking back on it from a mortal point of view, she really _did_ act like his mother for the first two or three hundred years. At least until the First Blight was over.

They walked in silence until they came upon a shimmering spot before them. Not the thin or torn spot in the Veil they sensed, no. This was something different. It warped the air around it and was full of shimmering colors and shapes. A dream. And a sad one, by the looks of it. Desire reached out and brushed it with her finger. It wasn’t warded, so it likely wasn’t a mage’s dream; if it was, it was a very young and inexperienced mage. No, it was almost certainly a normal dream. Desire shrugged at him.

“You’re not going anywhere for awhile,” she pointedly said, “Want to check it out? Like we used to.”

“Eh, why not?” Together, they passed the barrier of the dream and were met with a grim scene.

They were standing in a cemetery, a woman weeping over three tombs. Her shoulders shook violently, her face in her hands as she stood over the grave farthest to the right. Erik studied the tombs briefly. The first had a relief of a lute engraved into it, Orlesian script sitting neatly below. Erik couldn’t read Orlesian very well, but he understood the name _Marjolaine_ . His stomach dropped as he glanced at the second tomb. Once again in Orlesian, this time reading _Dorothea_ with the relief of a Chantry sigil. The woman stood over the third tomb, written in common with the engraving of cross arrows. _Erik Andersen_ , it read.

He glanced at Leliana sobbing over his grave as the wind whispered silently around them. Something in his heart caught and he suddenly felt very human again. Erik glanced at Desire and realized that as much fun as she was and as much as he cherished her friendship, his heart would always be human. And he promised himself he would get out of the Fade so that the woman he loved had one less grave to mourn over.

“Love is a terribly powerful thing,” a creaking, rasping voice said behind them, “It eats at you and changes you until one day, the person you were wouldn’t recognize the person you are, or the things you would do for what you’ve found. What a beautiful weakness.”

Erik turned to see the one woman he never expected to see. Her face both young and old, her eyes the same yellow as her daughter’s. Erik was reminded of the banter between Alistair and Morrigan and realized he was right: she did have the same nose as her mother. Her hair was swept up in four horns like a high dragon’s, her corset ruby and reminding him of a dragon’s scales. She turned her eyes to him and he could see the spirit within her. It was old. Far older than he or Desire or even himself and his friend combined with the Nightmare. And it was vengeful, and scorned, and so completely intertwined with the ancient witch that there was no truly discernible difference between the two, in the end.

“Mythal.”

She let out a loud cackle and threw her head back. “Out of all my names, you choose the one none alive knows of? Very well, little world walker. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you at last.”

“Will,” Desire murmured frantically at his side, her eyes wide. “We need to leave _now_.”

“Now, now, Desire, there’s no need to hurry off just yet,” Flemeth waved off, “I’m merely here to speak with my favorite interloper.”

Desire swallowed thickly and shifted in place, her fingers tapping on her thighs. Erik glanced back at the Witch of the Wilds, and the Evanuris.

“You know who I am, then?” Erik asked carefully, “And what I’m doing?”

“I do,” the ancient being nodded, “It’s been rather entertaining, watching you scurry around and play your own little game. I especially liked your acquisition of the mirrors. So many secrets you hold. I wonder, do your allies know the chess game you play? Your mourning lover there? Does she know?”

“Not everything,” he shook his head, “What are you doing here, Flemeth?”

“I’ve come to make a proposition,” Flemeth stated.

“Explain.”

“If you wander the Fade for a rift, you will not find one in time,” she explained, “You know as well as I time is a fickle thing here. You will either miss your chance to reunite with your loved ones or you will fail entirely, only returning to the world of the living when the Old Wolf brings down the barrier. And you will not return as a mortal, but as a spirit.”

“So you can get me out of here.”

“I can,” she nodded, “But know that if you leave here, you will live as a human. Though a spirit, you will love and die like a mortal, and if the lost elf succeeds in his plans, you will be affected as mortals would.”

“I don’t care. We’ll find a way to stop him,” he said determinedly, “Just get me out of here.”

She nodded. “Say your goodbyes, then. Your exit from here will be a harrowing one.”

Erik turned around and approached the still-weeping woman, lost in a terrible nightmare that may as well have been reality for her. He placed his hand on her shoulder gently, and there was a shimmer of air. She jumped suddenly and spun around. Her face was streaked and wet, her eyes red.

“I’m so sorry,” he said with emotion, “I never wanted to put you through this. Two graves to mourn is already too many; I never wanted to add a third. I’m coming back. I promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, however long that may be. I promise I’ll never make you feel this way again.”

She stared at him wordlessly and in shock. Erik felt a tear trickle down his cheek, and when he wiped it away, it was a shimmering silver. He marveled at it briefly before leaning forward and planted a kiss on the love of his life’s lips.

“I love you more than I could ever imagine,” he whispered. Then with a gentle push, she was awake, and the dream collapsed. He sniffled and turned back to the god in human flesh.

“I’m ready to go,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Desire asked, “You’ll suffer. You’ll toil and hurt and be forced to fight until you can’t anymore.”

“I don’t care. It’s all worth it if I can be with her again,” Erik murmured.

“I know. I can sense it in you,” she smiled, “It’s strong. Pure.”

He gave her a sad smile. “Go to my place. I know you can make use of the area. I’ll visit when I sleep.”

She smirked. “I promise not to make any huge changes.”

“I doubt that,” he shot back before embracing his friend.

“Bye mom.”

“Ass.”

And with that, Desire was gone. He turned back to Flemeth and took a breath.

“Do what you have to do,” he groaned. She let out a laugh.

“Do you think I must change you to a frog?” Mythal grinned, “No, my dear. A simple tear in the Veil will do. You will meet friends on the other side. But I must warn you, this will attract outside attention.”

Erik crossed his arms. “I just killed Nightmare. I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can.” She wove a spell and with a sudden pop, a rift opened. He could see the stars on the other side, and one of the moons. Cool, dry wind found his face, and he breathed it in hungrily.

“I have done my part,” Flemeth rasped, “Now you must do yours.” She began to walk away.

“Wait,” he called after her. The old witch stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.

“The next time you meet the Dread Wolf… just be careful. He’ll do anything to bring back Elvhenan.”

“Coming from the man who knows the future? I shall take that under advisement,” she tilted her head, “Now, turn around.”

Erik complied and was immediately swatted in the chest. He was thrown backward and tumbled to the ground when his feet caught a stalagmite. It shattered and he hit smacked his head against an outcropping of stone. For a moment, he saw stars; he spat up a small amount of blood and looked at the obstacle in his way.

A pride demon stood before the rift, cackling at the surprise attack. Erik groaned in pain and drew himself up.

“ _Thank you for the easy exit_ ,” it growled at him, “ _I’ve been looking for one for quite some time_.”

Erik drew his blades. “I’m older than you, more experienced and more powerful. You’re blocking my exit. I’m only going to ask you once to leave.”

Pride laughed in arrogance. “ _I think not._ ”

Erik shrugged and twirled his longsword. “Time to leave Wonderland.”

He launched himself at the pride demon with inhuman speed and drove his shortsword into its belly. It let out a roar of agony and stumbled backward before falling out of the Fade, swatting at Erik as he gripped the monster and began hacking at its chest.

Cold air hit him and he realized they were several hundred feet in the air. He let out a curse and shook his head, blocking yet another strike from the pride demon as it tore his sleeves to pieces.

 _That bitch did this on purpose_ , he thought. Erik looked at his adversary in its too-many eyes and grinned.

“Looks like you’re the balrog and I’m Gandalf then, buddy.” He drove his longsword into its upper chest, feeling resistance as it pierced its throat and the area where its heart should be. It coughed up gallons of purple ichor into his face and the air as its movements slowed. Erik counted the seconds they were in the sky and braced himself.

They hit the ground with a thunderous crash, and Erik was nearly thrown from his ride. The pride demon’s horns cracked the stones and half of them shattered on impact; his teeth rattled in his jaw and every muscle in his body screamed at him as his bones creaked from the force, yet still he held on for dear life, his knuckles white save for the shimmering red and purple ichor on them.

And then it was over, all the energy sapped from him once again. Erik glanced up and realized he was back at Adamant, and that there were people around him. But it looked like it had been some time since the battle, which made some sense, given his lover’s dream he’d just invaded.

Erik stood shakily as murmurs and breaths hitched around him. He left his blades where they were and shook his arms out; ribbons of cloth fell from them, torn apart by Pride’s claws. He got a little angry at that; he rather liked the shirt. So he kicked it in the head and snapped its neck, the remaining intact horns breaking completely off and staying in the stones. Then he spit blood in its mangled face.

“FUCK YOU!” he roared. He suddenly grew very tired and began to collapse, only relieved that he was heading straight for the torso of the beast.

“So… yeah. Then Velanna and Dalish and Stitches patched me up, and as soon as it was determined that I wasn’t possessed, I rode home with Aedan’s crew and the Chargers,” Erik finished his story, very certain to leave the details of his conversation with Flemeth out of the tale.

“You met my mother,” Morrigan deadpanned. Aedan had long since moved to his wife’s side and rubbed her arm in comfort.

“Yep. She was doing her usual meddling.”

“That… makes quite a bit of sense,” she sighed, her temple meeting the tips of her fingers.

Evelyn stared at the War Table while she took his explanation in, and then sighed.

“So you’re here. Now what?” she asked him.

“I guess you’re preparing to march on the Arbor Wilds?” he asked.

“We are,” Cullen nodded, still a bit pale and his voice slightly shaky. He cleared his throat, “What can you tell us about it?”

“Well, Morrigan is right. There’s definitely an eluvian in there,” he confirmed, glancing toward the witch, who began to grow a smug smile.

“But,” he continued, “Corypheus isn’t after the eluvian specifically. He’s after it’s key.”

“Which is?” Morrigan asked hotly, the smile gone from her face.

Erik coughed and shifted uncomfortably, well aware of Solas’s gaze on him once again. He knew. He knew everything, including what he and Flemeth had spoken about. Erik could feel it. The Wolf was onto him, now. He needed to be very careful.

“One of us needs to make a sacrifice,” he said carefully, “Who’s willing to take a dip in elven holy water?”

Evelyn immediately looked to Solas, whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Solas?”

“No,” he immediately responded, his eyes narrowing and his voice vehement, “Do not ask me again.”

Evelyn glanced back at Erik. He could feel every eye in the room upon him, all confused and intrigued and more than a little worried.

“What is in the forest, Erik?” she asked worriedly. He could tell she had a suspicion. She’d definitely read his letter to her, and his warning.

He sighed, his thumb and forefinger going to his brow. “Somebody here needs to grow a pair, take one for the team, and drink from something called the Well of Sorrows.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Abeyance by Be'lakor - https://www.youtube.com/watch?list=PL538501A9F54AC74E&v=rYBgWgjjgxQ
> 
> Abeyance: a state of temporary disuse or suspension.
> 
> I tried to make Erik's Fade sequence a bit more esoteric. It ended up as mostly banter between two old friends.


	51. While We Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang discusses who should drink the Sad Water. Erik shows Leliana and Evelyn bits of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert boilerplate disclaimer here.

“Explain what in the world this ‘Well of Sorrows’ is to me,” Evelyn demanded, staring intently and a little furiously at Erik.

“It would be a good thing to know what we’re doing here, I agree,” Blackwall spoke up. Erik squinted at him and slapped the war table.

“Has he confessed yet?”

“Yes. I gave him to the…”

“Aedan,” Erik said with false happiness, “You have a new Warden-Recruit. Meet Blackwall. Or Thom Rainier, actually.”

Aedan squinted his eyes at Thom. “Does Blackwall not live?”

“He was killed in a Darkspawn ambush,” Thom hung his head, “I took his name to honor him and cover my own misdeeds.”

Aedan nodded. “When we’re done with this battle, I’ll put you through the Joining. I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription.”

The air grew heavier as he spoke it, as if Aedan had spoken a magically binding agreement. Though, Erik supposed he may have; he didn’t know everything about the Wardens. For all he knew, the Right of Conscription _was_ magically binding.

“Back to this Well of Sorrows,” Cullen gestured, “What do we have to do?”

Solas stepped forward, clearly dismayed. “Champion, I do not believe that–”

“Shut the fuck up, Solas,” both Erik and Marian said at the same time. They looked at each other and gave a laugh.

“You’re procrastinating,” Evelyn grit through her teeth. Erik coughed and sat straighter.

“Right. The Well is… hard to explain. It’s a collective knowledge of the servants of Mythal. It dates back to ancient Elvhenan.”

“So why would Corypheus want it?” Varric asked. Erik looked at him and pursed his lips. He thought for a very long time about what he was about to do. Theoretically, anyone in the room could be at the Well when Evelyn was forced to choose who drinks from its waters. Save for the Advisors, but they would likely learn anyways. He dropped his head into his hands at what he was about to say. It was world-shattering, to say the least. Not to mention it could throw the future dangerously off course and it could possibly break the faith of any Andrastian he told it to. And nearly everyone in the room was devoutly Andrastian. But he had to tell them. It was better to tell them now so they had time to decide who would drink from the Well. He had no idea what the repercussions of the decision would be.

“Spit it out, Erik,” Evelyn snapped. Erik raised his head and looked across the table at his sister.

“Anyone who doesn’t want their faith potentially irrevocably shattered should leave now and _not_ accompany Evelyn to the Well when we go there,” he recommended. Everyone remained deathly still.

“Erik, whatever you have to say can’t be that terrible,” Dorian drawled. Erik looked at his Altus friend.

“You don’t know what I know, my friend,” he said in a small, exhausted voice that conveyed his true age, “Or have seen what I have seen. This is a world-changing thing I am about to tell you. If you won’t want to seriously question your faith and potentially all of history… leave.”

Still, no one moved. Erik glanced around the room with a sad sort of respect. Mortals and their stubbornness. He respected it so much. It gave him hope enough that he didn’t care what this information did.

“Your grace period is over,” he turned to Solas, “Who here knows the Dalish tale of how their gods were betrayed?”

None spoke up for a time, which was understandable. None in the room were Dalish, and Solas, who knew both the tale and truth, did not want to accidentally tip his cards. Then Morrigan spoke.

“Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen'Harel and banished to the Beyond,” she recalled, “Along with the rest of the elven gods. ‘Tis why the elven gods did not intervene when Arlathan fell to Tevinter’s conquest.”

“Elven legend is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder,” Erik bluntly spat out. Morrigan seemed taken aback.

“Murder? I said nothing of –”

"She was killed. If a god truly can be. She was betrayed and murdered,” Erik continued, “The Well is hers. It contains the collective knowledge of her servants. When they died, they passed their knowledge on into the Well. Drink from it, and you gain their knowledge.”

“Are you saying the elven gods were real?” Cassandra asked in shock. She seemed extremely pale, even for her skin tone.

“They _are_ real. They’re still alive, and if they’re conscious, they’re very, _very_ angry,” he sighed, directing his next words toward Solas without looking at him, “And I guarantee if they ever wake, they’re going to wreak havoc.”

“The question of whether the elven gods are going to wake is irrelevant right now,” Evelyn redirected, “Even if I’m now worried that you even brought it up in the first place. What about the Well? That kind of knowledge can’t come without cost.”

“You’re correct,” Erik nodded, “Whoever drinks from the Well of Sorrows gains the knowledge held in it, but is forever bound to the will of Mythal.”

“The will of a dead god?” Morrigan scoffed, “You said she was killed, even if the other gods are still alive. What good is the will of Mythal if she is deceased?”

“Do not underestimate the Evanuris,” Erik warned, taking a quick glance toward Solas, who gave him a small nod. Good. He had not told too much too soon. Erik sighed and continued.

“Morrigan, I am a spirit of will. I probably understand this better than anyone in this room,” he sighed, “You, of all people, should be the _last_ to drink from the Well.”

“Why?”

Erik’s lips were dry and cracked; he wet them with his tongue and continued, albeit vaguely.

“For personal reasons we will discuss when the rest of the Inner Circle are away. You are one of two reasons why I am telling everyone this now. The other is Evelyn. _I_ will drink from the Well of Sorrows if I have to, but I won’t allow either of you to do it.”

“I’m the one in charge here, Erik,” Evelyn reminded him sternly, “If I want to drink from the Well, I’ll do it.”

“By all means,” he muttered, “But I am begging you, please don’t drink from the Well. I’m trying to spare you your freedom.”

“Why them and not the rest of us?” Sera asked suspiciously.

 _Because the rest of you don’t matter. Because in the end, you aren’t important in the grand scheme of things, except for maybe Dorian and whoever becomes Divine. Because I can keep an eye on most of you after the Inquisition ends_ , _in case the decision of who drank from the fucking Well actually matters when shit hits the fan._

“Quite frankly, because I care about Evelyn more than I care about the rest of you,” he shrugged, deciding to be blunt, “And because Morrigan has very personal reasons that she does not yet know of as to why she should not be the one to drink from it.”

“But it’s clear that one of us needs to drink from it,” Aedan sighed, “If we don’t, Corypheus will take it and use that knowledge to… what, exactly?”

“Either get through the Veil or undo it entirely,” Erik clarified, “Probably very clumsily.”

Hawke sighed. “Right. So one of us needs to give up our freedom. Who’s a good candidate?”

“It needs to be someone we can keep an eye on,” Erik hummed, weaving truth with lies, “In case Mythal decides to do something with her servant. So it can’t be Sera. Solas won’t do it. Bull runs a mercenary group, so he’s liable to vanish traveling for a while. Isabela runs the Raiders. Varric, maybe, if he’s willing to –”

“Nope,” the dwarf threw his hands up, “I’ve had my fill of weird shit for my lifetime. I don’t want to carry weird shit in my mind the rest of my days.”

“Hawke is–”

“A walking hurricane,” she grunted, “Shit seems to go wrong around me. I’d rather you not have me drink from it, just for the safety of others.”

Erik grunted his assent. “Fair point. Moving on, then. Cassandra is a candidate for the Sunburst Throne. So she can’t drink from it. I personally do not trust Vivienne with this power. She’s too fixated on the Game to see the bigger picture, and with that kind of knowledge she could do some serious damage.”

“I’d do it if I didn’t have to run the Wardens,” Aedan shrugged, “I’ve already made questionable sacrifices in the past.”

“What about Cole?” Cullen asked, “If he’s willing, he may be able to drink from it.”

“Cole, however human he now is, remains a spirit at his core,” Solas shook his head, “The Well may not even accept his physiology. That same issue extends to Erik.”

“That leaves Blackwall, myself, and Morrigan,” Evelyn sighed, “And Blackwall is sworn to the Wardens.”

Erik grunted. She was right. There was literally no one else in the Inquisition that could be a potential candidate to become the vessel for the Well. Either Evelyn or Morrigan would end up needing to drink from it if he couldn’t. Or they would need outside help. Erik blinked as the last thought passed through his mind. He glanced toward Marian.

“How long would it take to get Merrill here?” he asked the woman. She gave a small shake of her head and crossed her arms.

“I wrote to her not long after we attacked the Shrine of Dumat. Told her that we were hunting after an elven artifact and that we could use her ‘expertise’. She won’t leave the people in the Alienage she’s helping; apparently the red lyrium at the Gallows is making everyone worried,” she explained in a slightly downtrodden tone. Erik ran his fingers through his hair, tugging the end of its length from between himself and the chair with a wince. He drummed his fingers on the table.

“Right. Since no one else is a good enough option, one of you two will have to drink,” Erik sighed in resignation, “Which is exactly what happened from what I saw back on Earth.”

“Who drank from it in the story you knew?” Josephine asked curiously.

“Half of the versions had the Inquisitor drink from the Well of Sorrows, half of them had Morrigan,” he tossed a glance toward the two women in question and sniffed, “It doesn’t matter which of you drinks it for our goals. We just need the knowledge in its waters.”

Evelyn flexed her marked hand in frustration. “Well, then. Everyone other than Aedan, Morrigan and Erik, out. We have some things to deliberate.”

The Inner Circle filed out of the War Room quickly. Cullen gave Evelyn a worried look that she returned, and then he left, leaving only Morrigan, Evelyn, Erik, and an extremely worried-looking Aedan. As soon as the door closed behind Cullen, the last out of the room. His sister cleared her throat and gazed down into the table.

“Which of us is a better suited for the Well?” she asked quietly.

“I have studied ancient artifacts such as these,” Morrigan pointed out, “’Tis only logical that I be the one to drink from the Well.”

“Morrigan, please,” Aedan practically begged, “This doesn’t seem like a good idea. Bound to the will of an elven god for eternity?”

“No matter what Erik says, I doubt that Mythal will be able to –”

“Your mother is Mythal,” Erik interrupted. The witch choked on her words and stared at Erik with wide, fearful eyes.

“What?”

“You’ve suspected for years that Flemeth isn’t human,” he continued in a tone of warning, “And this is confirmation. The spirit that came to Flemeth when she was betrayed was the spirit of Mythal, thousands of years after her murder. They’re so deeply connected that there is no longer a difference between the two. Flemeth is Mythal and Mythal is Flemeth. If you drink from the Well of Sorrows, you will be walking straight into the trap that you’ve been running from for a decade.”

She inched closer to her husband, a far away look adorning her face. “I… will not be drinking, then.”

Evelyn nodded. “Nor would I want you to, especially after knowing that. You have a child. He should be your priority over everything. I’ll drink from the Well of Sorrows, consequences be damned.”

Erik looked at her sadly. “If there were another way, Ev…”

“I know. You would tell me. You’ve been my closest friend through all this. I trust you more than anyone in the world.” She stood and moved swiftly from the room. The three remaining occupants watched her go and sat in silence for a minute or more.

“Thank you for your warning,” Morrigan said quietly, “It means more than you know.”

Erik nodded once as the husband and wife vacated the War Room, leaving Erik to stare at the map adorned on the heavy table as he worried over what would become of Evelyn once Solas threw his plans into motion.

* * *

Evelyn scratched the mabari’s ear as she watched Cullen play with the young boy on the other side of the yard. The dog let out a groan of satisfaction and leaned further into her hand when she hit an especially sensitive spot. She let out a small, short laugh and a hint of a smile graced her lips at the almost human response the dog had. After everything she had been through, it was relaxing to simply sit and watch the scene unfold before her. Her surroundings were beautiful, really; the sun set behind her and the house, casting long shadows through the yard as the day wound down. Not a worry in the world was in her mind as she dreamed peacefully, merely comfort and peace… and a sudden, overwhelming force of will. She blinked at the strange sensation.

“Beautiful dream,” a familiar voice said from behind the garden bench. She jumped slightly and spun in place, finding a spirit, its skin fair but slightly shimmering with a blue hue, its the waves in its shoulder-length red hair blowing in the cool breeze of the late afternoon as it peered across the garden at Cullen and the little boy.

“Kind of feel like I’m intruding, but I wanted to come see you,” the spirit continued. Evelyn blinked, realizing she was only friends with two spirits, only one of whom would speak as though he were completely human.

“Erik,” she greeted in slightly restrained shock. He turned his luminescent blue eyes down toward her and gave a small smile.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, slightly disturbed that he could find or enter her dream at all, “I’ve never heard of you dreaming in the Fade before.”

He merely shrugged. “Things changed after I regained my memories. I can wander the Fade like other spirits can when I sleep. Figured I’d stop by and ask if you wanted to come see something.”

“How did you get in?” she asked, “I ward my dreams.”

“I dunno. Just walked right through. Wards only work against spirits. I’m a spirit but I’m also human. Maybe that had something to do with it?”

She grunted. “Well, there aren’t any demons here, so the wards are still holding,” she studied his odd spiritual form for a moment, “What do you want to show me?”

“My birth world.” Her breath hitched and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I thought you were done with Earth,” she reminded him suspiciously. Erik let out a laugh.

“Leliana said the same thing when I picked her up,” he grinned, “I may have let it go, but it’ll always be a part of me. And now that I can actually show people what it was like, rather than just showing people the art, I wanted to.”

“And you only want to show me and Leliana?” Evelyn pressed, slightly confused. Erik merely shrugged.

“You’re my sister and my best friend, and she’s the love of my life,” he pointed out, “There’s no one else I would want to show it to.”

She thought for a minute. They had spoken at length about his world and his work, and he had shown them all the ‘movie’ from his world, but she could only really imagine what the world of his birth was like; she was always curious about what it truly looked like and what he did there. And he was offering freely. Evelyn smiled and stood.

“Let’s go, then,” she nodded. Erik grabbed her hand with a grin, and the instant he did, her idyllic dream shimmered and vanished, replaced instead with a simple plain of tall grass and a tree. Evelyn glanced around at the scene. There were no other trees in sight but the thick, sturdy oak they found themselves underneath. In fact, there was nothing as far as the eye could see, with only the sun and silver-white clouds in the sky. As she turned in place to take in the simple scene, Evelyn noticed Leliana about fifteen feet behind her, standing uncomfortably next to a gorgeous woman with raven black hair, glowing violet eyes and a set of small horns – no, wait, that was a desire demon. Probably the one Erik seemed to have befriended during his time as a spirit. Her brother tilted his head toward his lover and friend and they jaunted over. As soon as the desire demon noticed Evelyn, a seductive grin grew on her face.

“Well, now,” she purred at Erik but never taking her eyes off Evelyn, “I had no idea you kept such beautiful company.”

The desire demon strutted over toward her and ran a long, surprisingly sharp fingernail down her cheek. Evelyn immediately felt extremely uncomfortable and slightly wished she stayed in her perfect little bubble of the Fade. She gently swatted the hand away, and the demon’s lips curled into a pout.

“Desire, stop trying to seduce my sister,” Erik sighed in exasperation, “You already hit on my girlfriend when I brought her here. If you keep doing that I won’t be able to bring people here anymore.”

The demon, whose name was apparently simply Desire, let out a puff of air. “You’re no fun.”

“No, I’m perfectly fun, mom.”

Evelyn blinked at the oddly endearing term. Spirits didn’t have mothers – sure, Erik did, but he had a _human_ mother. And she had seen his memories. Desire was not his mother. Though, as she thought about it more, she did certainly act in a very motherly way until the First Blight ended, and as Evelyn thought about it more, it made sense as to why Erik would call her that; it seemed to irritate Desire, however.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” the demon parroted Evelyn’s thoughts.

“I know. Which is why I keep calling you mom,” he grinned. Leliana shifted awkwardly and approached Erik.

“Erik, does she have to be here?” she asked, “Isn’t it dangerous? Having a demon simply in this space?”

“Relax, beautiful, I’ve never actually tried to possess anyone before,” Desire brushed off, “Besides, your _darling_ here wouldn’t approve of it if I tried it on either of you.”

“I let her live here, babe,” Erik explained, “She was good to me when I was just a wisp, and this is a much calmer area of the Fade than hers. Much less crowded.”

Evelyn cleared her throat. “Right. Back on track, then. What is this place, Erik? Your home?”

He shrugged and glanced around at the surroundings. “Nah, this is just what I decided my territory should look like when it’s inert. Took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do with it.”

“He mostly just sits under the tree and stares at the clouds,” Desire huffed, “Not at all what a spirit of will would do.”

“I’m human, too. Sometimes I just want a break,” Erik crossed his arms and glanced at Evelyn and Leliana, “So. What do you want to see first?”

Evelyn thought for a moment. There was quite a bit she wanted to see. She suspected she could ask for any point in his life, and save for maybe a few moments, he would probably show it to him. She thought of his old job, of how similar it seemed, yet how different it was, as well.

“What was your job like?” she asked nervously, “I want to see it.”

Erik grinned. “Alright, then. Be aware, you might be surprised at what you see. It might overwhelm you,” he warned. Erik closed his eyes and their surroundings began to shift.

They found themselves in a sphere of metal, a loud humming sound coming from all directions. Evelyn startled momentarily when she realized she was not in the clothes she had entered the dream in. Her hands were gloved, and she was dressed in boots akin to the ones she’d seen Erik wear when he was first in Thedas. Her clothes were a patter of splotches made of shades of green, tan, and brown. Something heavy was strapped to her back, as well as her front, and something very heavy hung between her legs, as well – a rucksack, from the looks of it. An odd helmet was strapped to her head, something hanging from it from one side. She glanced around and saw a dozen or so human men dressed similarly, Erik among them. She turned toward Leliana, who was dressed the same and looked as bewildered as Evelyn felt. A pair of black tubes sat atop her helmet; Evelyn felt her head and realized they were on her helmet, as well. Desire sat in a chair next to the edge of the tube, rolling her eyes and not dressed the same as they were. Erik waddled over toward them, a similar ruck strapped between his legs.

“Welcome to freefall,” he smiled, “This was part of my job. Definitely the most fun.”

“What is this?” Leliana asked, her voice raised as to be heard over the sound of the hum, “Where are we?”

“We’re in a plane. We’re about to jump out of it. Remember how I explained how I used to jump from the sky?”

The Orlesian’s eyes went wide. “No. I refuse.” Evelyn nodded her agreement, the tubes on her helmet making the movement harder.

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured them both, “Just do what the rest of the guys and I do.”

“And what is that?” Evelyn shouted. Erik pointed to the back of the tube where it slanted upward into an odd corner.

“When that ramp opens, we’re jumping almost immediately. Follow everyone else, and when everyone else’s canopies open, pull this,” he pointed to a yellow tab made of thick fabric before pointing to another one, this time white and slightly lower, “When I tell you, pull this.”

“What if we get hurt?” Leliana asked worriedly.

“This is a dream. You’ll be fine. Just do exactly as I do.” He strapped the cone-like object across his face, and Leliana and Evelyn mirrored his act. Air was flowing through the cone.

The ramp began to lower with a whirring noise, and the humming was augmented with a whine and the sound of wind whipping. The men sitting down stood and faced the opening calmly. One of the men held up two fingers, and everyone else repeated the gesture. Evelyn and Leliana glanced out the ramp. They were high. Much higher than her fall at Adamant. So high that she could no longer make up individual objects on the ground. She glanced up toward the sky to find no clouds above them, and she realized it was because they were _above_ the clouds. She backed up as quickly as the bulk strapped to her body would allow.

The man from before held up one finger, and again it was mirrored. The men all lined up, Erik at the back with Leliana and Evelyn. A finger and thumb were held up, just a hint of space between them. Evelyn could feel her heart racing and hear the blood rush in her ears. She did not want to jump. Even if it were a dream, it was still an insane concept. Erik did this for a living? Was he insane?

That was a stupid question, she realized as a light turned green on the side of the tube, or plane, or whatever they were in. The first man threw himself off the ramp, twisting his feet over his head briefly and moving quickly away from the plane. Everyone else followed quickly after that. Erik turned back briefly and gave them a thumbs up before pushing himself off the edge.

Evelyn wasn’t sure what came over her. Perhaps she was just following Erik. Perhaps she wanted to know what it was like. Whatever it was, she followed Erik’s example and leaned forward, thrusting with her calves and thighs just a bit. She took a deep breath.

And then she was falling, freezing cold air whipping past her ears at a deafening pace. Her stomach briefly floated into her mouth before resettling, and she saw Erik spread his arms and legs just below her. Again, she copied her brother, trusting he knew what he was doing. She thought about her situation for a moment. Aside from the frigid air whipping past her in a cacophony of white noise, it was rather peaceful. She allowed herself a smile and tilted her body to follow the others below her.

They were only falling rapidly for a short time. A minute, maybe two. The clouds whipped past her and she realized they were falling quite rapidly. The ground was approaching much faster than she would’ve expected. It was horrifying, and amazing. She saw something grow rapidly from Erik’s back: the canopy, she assumed, as he suddenly seemed to stop moving and flew past her as she kept dropping. She pulled the yellow tab Erik had instructed her to and felt a sudden, sharp jerking motion. The air was briefly forced from her lungs.

And then she was floating. She laughed and glanced around, finding the others she had fallen with gripping the handle-like ropes that hung from the canopies above them; Evelyn grabbed them as well and gave one a tug. She turned in the air sharply, and she gently released the tension she had created. Erik floated down next to her and unstrapped the cone from his lower face.

“Pretty fucking awesome, right?” he called across to her. She removed the cone from her face, as well, and let out a breathy laugh.

“Way better than Adamant,” she admitted. Then Leliana appeared behind her brother.

“Why in the Maker’s name would you _volunteer_ to do this?!” she shouted, “That was terrifying. And exhilarating. But still terrifying!”

“It’s fun!” Erik laughed, “You were never in much danger.”

“ _Much_ danger? Do people die doing this?” Evelyn asked.

“Oh, yeah, accidents happen often enough,” Erik shrugged, “But we all know the dangers.”

He glanced down and tugged on the white tab. The ruck between his legs fell on a rope as the ground began approaching. She could make out people and strange metal carts and several buildings. Evelyn pulled her tab, as well, and the ruck dropped, tugging her slightly. She glanced over to Erik to see him pulling both handles simultaneously and bending his knees. Evelyn and Leliana both mirrored his actions once more as the ground’s approach slowed significantly. It grew closer, and closer. Evelyn pulled even harder on the handles.

She touched the wet ground gently and landed with a small trot. The canopy collapsed behind her collapsed. Erik pulled two rings on his shoulders and removed the rope attaching his ruck to his waist; Evelyn fumbled for her rings but eventually got them off, and Erik trotted over with the ruck on his back to undo her rope, as well. She glanced over to find that Leliana had figured it out on her own.

She glanced around to find they were in a huge clearing, tall, evergreen trees around them. The other men were packing up their canopies in bags and moving toward a building near the edge of the clearing.

“Welcome to Luzon Drop Zone, Camp Mackall,” Erik said as Leliana approached, “You’ve just jumped from thirty thousand feet.”

“Thirty _thousand_?” Leliana asked in shock, “Why that high?”

“To get past enemy radar,” a man called as he trotted past them. Erik let out a chuckle and waved at the man.

“Isaac’s right. We use it to get past enemy detection systems,” he explained, “But that was just a training jump. We’re in North Carolina, where I lived and worked.”

“Will you show us?” Evelyn asked hopefully.

“Nope. That would involve packing that chute over there. I’m not about to do that. I’ll show you another time,” he said, and the air shifted again.

This time, they were in a lush valley, snow-capped mountains on all sides and the sun beating down in a cloudless sky. They were still dressed the same, but free from the ruck and canopy. In their place, something slightly weighty was draped and strapped to her front and back, shaped slightly like her upper body. A rifle similar to Erik’s was in her hands. Evelyn glanced at Leliana worriedly before turning to Erik, who wore a hat instead of a helmet. Its brim covered maybe one-fifth of its width and was shaped like a duck’s bill. He wore the same thing as Evelyn and Leliana, and she realized it was some sort of armor.

“Welcome to Afghanistan,” he said sternly, “You’re about to be shot at.”

Before she could process what he’d said, something whipped past them and exploded on a rock thirty meters behind her. The men around them all immediately shot back, and someone called out a distance and direction. Erik ran to cover and began shooting at figures in a treeline. Evelyn and Leliana followed quickly.

“Erik! You see them?” a man called, “How many are there?”

“Uh… looks like a platoon and a half’s worth. Maybe two. Eight hundred meters,” he called back between shots.

“Rog.”

A thumping noise was heard to their left, and a projectile the size of an apple was launched at the treeline in the distance. It sailed toward the trees and exploded with a _boom_. Erik glanced at them.

“Well, shoot back!” he laughed. Evelyn and Leliana shrugged and shot at the treeline, aiming for anything that looked like a person. They continued that for several minutes, maybe a dozen, as the rocks around them were chipped and cracked by incoming fire. Evelyn wondered if all war on Earth was waged like this.

“Hey, E! Think we can get some air support?” the same man from before called, “These fuckers are way too far.”

“Yeah, let me see what I can do, Mike,” he turned to them with a grin, “Watch this.”

He pressed a button on his shoulder and began speaking. Several moments passed, during which Erik said a series of numbers and letters. Evelyn glanced at Leliana, who merely shrugged. Finally, Erik smiled.

“Roger, wilco.” He tapped both of them and stood, peering at the trees. Evelyn stood, along with Leliana, and gazed toward the area, as well. Then a humming was heard. Evelyn glanced up to see what looked like a metal bird flying over them. A plane, she assumed, like the machine they’d just jumped out of.

“Splash out,” Erik called. It dropped two tubes from its underside that launched themselves toward the treeline. Evelyn watched with confusion as they sped toward their targets.

Then they hit the ground in a fireball, kicking up dust and wood and a cloud of black smoke. A shockwave hit them with so much force and violence she was nearly thrown from her feet; the explosion was followed by a long loud _brrrrt_ , and more dust was kicked into the air. Evelyn suddenly understood that Earth had far surpassed Thedas in every way possible, and she shuddered to think what a more violent confrontation would have been like.

“Good hit, Eagle 1-6,” Erik said, pressing the button on his shoulder, “Thanks for the help, Desire.” He turned toward them.

“I just wanted to show you a Warthog blowing shit up,” he laughed, “Instant freedom boner.”

“No more war,” Leliana sighed, “Show me something peaceful.”

Erik shrugged. “What do you want to see now?”

Evelyn pondered the question. She’d only known him for little over a year; despite seeing him as a brother separated at birth, she had never seen what his childhood was like. And his childhood would certainly be more enjoyable than a more harrowing memory of his. She decided she would enjoy seeing his youth.

“I want to see what you were like as a child,” Leliana suggested, clearly thinking the same thing she was, “Just no more war.”

Erik smiled and nodded.

The temperature immediately increased far beyond anything Evelyn was accustomed to living in the Frostbacks and the Free Marches. It wasn’t quite as hot as the Western Approach, but it was close. Despite the heat, however, it was much more pleasant than any summer warmth she’d ever felt. She glanced around at her surroundings. They were on a beach of bright yellow sand, a massive, dark blue ocean stretching out before them. A rather large island loomed in the distance, too far to make out anything interesting even though it took up a sizable portion of the horizon. What seemed to be a partly finished wooden bridge jutted out several hundred meters into the water before finishing with a sheer drop into the waves. At its end was a building as complex as any she’d seen in Val Royeaux or Ostwick or any other major city she’d visited. Men, women, and children were everywhere on the beach, most of them clad in next to nothing, covered in what seemed to be brightly colored smallclothes. Some children chased dogs around the beach, some played in the waves, while others were building structures out of damp shore, using brightly colored and oddly shaped buckets to mold the sand to their liking. Most of the adults either relaxed in the sun on blankets or played with their children in the water, though some rode planks of wood barefoot on the waves.

“Welcome to Seal Beach,” Erik said, his voice a smile. She turned toward him and blinked. His spiritual glow had ceased and he had changed his clothing, opting to forego a shirt, his sleeve tattoos bare in the bright sun. He was dressed similarly to the others on the coastline, wearing only pants that ended at the knee, completely barefoot. A set of bifocals with dark lenses covered his eyes. A small, sad smile played on his lips. Desire returned, dressed as scantily as any other woman on the beach.

“Well, bye,” Desire laughed as she sprinted toward the water.

“This is where you grew up?” Leliana asked in shock.

He nodded. “Yep. Raised here, about three or four minutes’ drive from the beach. I practically lived on this beach when I was a teenager.”

“It looks like the Antivan coast,” the Orlesian continued in awe. Erik gestured for them to follow and began to move further toward the ocean.

“This is a particularly vivid memory of yours, then?” Evelyn asked.

“It is,” he confirmed, “This is the summer between second and third grade school years, when I was eight. Today is July 28, 1999.”

“Is this where you were born?” Leliana asked. Erik shook his head.

“I was born over there. Long Beach,” he pointed north, and both women gasped in shock. In the distance, a dozen or more buildings made of glass and metal reached high into the sky. They were taller than anything she’d ever seen, giants crafted by men in a way she never thought possible.

“That’s… how many people live there?” Evelyn asked in awe.

“Four hundred thousand, I think?” Erik thought out loud.

“Four hundred _thousand_? That’s almost as big as Minrathous!”

“Trust me, we have way bigger cities than Minrathous,” Erik laughed, “Just beyond that one, there’s one with a population around four million. Nearly twenty million people live in this metropolitan area.”

“That’s… I don’t even know what do say,” she admitted. Erik shrugged.

“It has its own problems,” he admitted, “I’ve found I like Thedas more, for more reasons than one.”

Evelyn decided to push the idea from her mind and ask Erik later, when they had more time than just a short dream. She tilted her head and glanced around the beach.

“I'll ask about that later. But this day. Any reason this stood out in particular?” she continued while shaking sand from her shoes. She grunted and willed for the cumbersome things to vanish before copying a woman’s clothing about her age. She smiled down at the soft fabric of the short dress that was barely more than a shift, marveling at how thin yet sturdy the straps on her shoulders were. Leliana noticed what she had done and closed her eyes, her face clearly focusing as she shaped what she was wearing, as well. It took slightly longer, but to be fair to her, she wasn’t a mage. Or a spirit, like Erik was.

“This was just a really great day,” Erik shrugged, “It was one of the few times my parents were able to take me anywhere. They were scientists. Always busy. They promised they’d take me anywhere I wanted on a day where neither of them had to work.”

He tilted his head toward a couple sitting on the beach beneath a round canopy. Evelyn and Leliana rounded the canopy to get a better look. Evelyn studied her brother’s birth parents. His father was a tall and handsome man, nearly as tall as Erik, with pale skin, blue eyes not unlike Leliana’s, and ear-length, platinum blonde hair. He was rather skinny, though not unhealthily so. He held a kindness in his eyes that was impossible to falsify, though also a kind of sadness as he gazed into the ocean. Evelyn turned her gaze toward Erik’s mother and froze.

She looked nearly exactly like her own mother. Her wild red hair was held back by a band, her skin, though deeply freckled, was nearly as pale as her husband’s and her eyes were the same brown as Erik’s eyes once were before he realized his spiritual half. Aside from that, her mother from twenty years ago stared back at her. She was undeniably gorgeous and was clearly not afraid to show it, her breasts and pelvis the only things covered by the thin fabric on her skin. The only differences she could see were that her hair was curlier, her skin slightly paler, and her warm brown eyes far kinder than her mother’s had ever been. She wore a small pendant between her breasts, looking similar to a dwarven rune but not quite the same. Evelyn suddenly realized why she and Erik could be mistaken as true siblings, and she wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it during her parent’s ill-timed trip to Skyhold. She, too, had her eyes fixed on the sea, a small smile slowly growing on her lips. A young boy’s voice called out from behind her.

“Mamma! Pappa! Se hva jeg fant!” the boy shouted. Evelyn quickly spun to find a tall, thin boy, about eight or nine. He had a wide grin on his face, the red hair and brown eyes of his mother on his head as he sprinted toward the couple. He had his father’s face and clearly his height, as well, though his skin was slightly more tanned than either of his parents – though that could be explained by the sun. Evelyn realized she was looking at Erik as a young boy. Leliana let out a small gasp and Erik moved closer toward his partner, silently watching his younger self as he clutched a spiraling shell in his small hands. Erik’s mother sat up with a grin, outstretching an arm toward her son.

“La meg se, lille Jomsviking,” she said in a sweet voice. Erik thrust the shell toward her mother and she took it gently, studying it for a moment.

“Noe pleide å leve i dette,” she said to the boy, “En eremittkrabbe. Det må ha blitt for stort og gått videre.”

“Hvorfor ville den forlate hjemmet sitt?” young Erik asked with a hint of sadness. Erik’s father sat up and looked at his son.

“Ibland blir levande saker för stora för sina hem,” he said softly, “De måste gå vidare till ett större och bättre hem.”

“That sounded different,” Leliana mentioned at Erik’s side, glancing toward her lover, “Why did that sound different?”

“Mom was Norwegian. Dad was Swedish,” Erik explained, “They’re mostly mutually intelligible. I could understand both, but I could only speak Norwegian. Mom took quite a bit of time off work when I was very young in order to raise me, and she spoke Norwegian and English to me. I learned how to understand Swedish when dad spoke it around me, but I never learned it.”

“Can you still speak it? Norwegian?” Evelyn asked curiously.

“Probably,” he shrugged with a hint of sadness, “I haven’t spoken it since mom died, though. That was twelve years ago, now. Or twelve hundred, if you want to look at it that way.”

The younger version of Erik plopped down next to his mother and began playing with the shell. Erik himself swallowed and slowly approached his mother, who just then seemed to notice him. He took off the things covering his eyes and Evelyn saw they were filled with tears. Erik knelt down in front of her.

“Jeg fikk ikke lov til å si farvel,” he told her, his voice hitching toward the end. She gave him a sad look and gently gripped his forearm.

“Jeg vet, lille Jomsviking,” she said to her grown son, her voice barely above a whisper, “Det må ha vært så vanskelig for deg.”

“Jeg var så sint da du døde. Jeg gjorde så mange forferdelige ting,” he sniffed and wiped his eyes with his free arm, “Jeg har drept så mange mennesker ... Jeg vet ikke om jeg engang skulle snakke med deg etter det jeg har gjort.”

She wrapped her arms around Erik and slowly rubbed his back. “Ikke skam deg over det du har gjort. Du gjorde mer godt enn å skade. Og det må alltid være de som er villige til å kjempe.”

She pulled away and gripped his shoulders, studying his face. “Se på deg. Min lille Jomsviking er voksen. En skikkelig Jomsviking nå. Jeg er så stolt av deg.”

“Jeg elsker deg mamma,” Erik sobbed, “Jeg savner deg hver dag.”

“Jeg vet. Jeg savner deg også. Men jeg vil se deg igjen en dag. Jeg holder alltid øye med deg,” she said. It sounded like a reminder, or an affirmation. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Erik’s brow, and Erik wiped his eyes once more. His mother turned toward Leliana in a slightly harrowing manner.

“Take care of him,” she warned, her voice accented strangely, “Or you and I will have words when we meet beyond. My baby boy has been through too much to be hurt again.”

Leliana nearly choked, her eyes bulging slightly before she smoothed her features to their usual serenity and coolness. She merely nodded. Erik’s mother turned back toward him and unclasped the pendant from her neck, placing it in his hand and curling his fingers around it. She whispered something Evelyn couldn’t hear, and then he nodded and stood, returning to Leliana and Evelyn.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Desire said, approaching the trio. Erik shook his head.

“It’s alright,” he shakily responded. Evelyn glanced at her brother, tears streaking his face.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“Nor do I,” Leliana agreed, “I’m sorry, Erik. Do you want to speak of it?”

Erik shook his head. “There will be plenty of time to talk about it later. Once you both _wake up_.”

Evelyn was yanked from the dream, her arms gently wrapped around Cullen’s midriff.

* * *

Erik awoke with tears streaking his cheeks. He glanced at Leliana, watching him sleepily at his side, more than a hint of worry in her bleary blue eyes. He gave her a sad smile and froze, realizing his hand was clutched in a fist.

He unfurled his fingers to find his mother’s runic pendant lying gently in his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for While We Sleep by Insomnium - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBZ5SLJmfdw
> 
> Some of the things Erik shows aren't completely accurate, but for the sake of simplicity I decided not to describe exactly how to jump from thirty thousand feet. Also, typically a CCT or a TACP calls in an air strike. But my friend was an 18E and JTAC qualified. He definitely did know how to call in air strikes. I saw him do it.
> 
> And yes, watching an A-10 Warthog fuck shit up gives one an INSTANT freedom boner. That bit is 100% accurate. Most awesome shit I've ever witnessed.
> 
> A rough translation of the Norwegian and Swedish in the chapter:  
> Young Erik: “Mom! Dad! Look what I found!”  
> Annette (Erik's mother):“Let me see, [my] little Jomsviking. Something used to live in this. A hermit crab. It must have become too big and moved on. ”  
> Young Erik: "Why would it leave its home?"  
> Johan (Erik's father), in Swedish: "Sometimes living things get too big for their homes. They need to move on to a bigger and better home."  
> Adult Erik: "I never got to say goodbye."  
> Annette: "I know, [my] little Jomsviking. It must have been so hard for you."  
> Adult Erik: "I was so angry when you died. I did/have done so many terrible things. I have killed so many people... I don't know if I should even talk to you after what I have done."  
> Annette: “Don't be ashamed of what you have done. You did more good than harm. And there must always be those who are willing to fight.”  
> Annette: "Look at you. My little Jomsviking is a man. A real Jomsviking now. I'm so proud of you."  
> Adult Erik: "I love you mom. I miss you every day."  
> Annette: "I know. I miss you too. But I will see you again one day. I'm always watching over you."
> 
> For those who don't know, the Jomsvikings were a legendary group of Viking mercenary warriors with a strict code of honor. They were extremely selective with who joined their ranks. They're referenced liberally in AC: Valhalla if you've played it, but I've known of them for years, and my friend's mother actually DID call him her little Jomsviking.


	52. I Will Follow You into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik questions his mother's appearance in his dream. Evelyn receives a gift from Cullen. Aedan doesn't trust that shifty fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost all fluff here, folks.
> 
> I do not own Dragon Age. I'm just goofing off in Bioware's world with my own original character thrown into the mix. Why? Because I can.

Evelyn studied her brother as he sat on his bed, knees curled to his chest as he stared at the pendant that had appeared in his hand. He gazed unblinking at the metal rune in the palm of his hand, his luminescent blue eyes shining with unshed tears. She had been called ion not long after Leliana couldn’t elicit a response from him. But nearly twenty minutes after her arrival, even she couldn’t draw words from Erik; it was as though he was lost in his own thoughts and was either unaware or uncaring of everything surrounding him. Leliana was already worried when she’d come for her, and now Evelyn was growing worried, as well.

“Erik, please say something,” she tried again, “We want to help, but you need to tell us what happened.”

He didn’t respond at first. Then, very slowly, he wet his lips and shifted in place.

“I thought it was another spirit,” he murmured flatly, “Maybe one of comfort. But as soon as I woke with this in my hand, I realized I didn’t let any spirits other than Desire into my area.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Leliana asked from Erik’s side, “I don’t understand why an invitation would make a difference.”

“Spirits are territorial,” Evelyn explained to the Orlesian, “Most have their own area of the Fade, and most of the time, one spirit can’t enter another’s region without breaking in or the resident spirit’s express permission. It’s like entering someone’s house.”

“So was it an intruder?” she placed a hand on her lover’s knee in comfort. He merely shook his head.

“I would have known if someone had broken in. That wasn’t a spirit. That was my mom.”

Leliana shook her head. “Erik, that’s impossible. The souls of the dead can’t return from –”

“I woke up with her pendant in my hand,” he insisted, “I know what this is. Mom wore it longer than I knew her. She was buried with it.”

“Explain how it got in your hand, then,” Leliana snapped.

“I don’t know. Explain how an androgynous entity teleported me across dimensional lines and incarnated me as a spirit,” he shot back with equal vehemence.

She blinked. “What?”

“It was Erik’s memories,” Evelyn sighed, hoping to end the spat before it got too horrible, “Something offered to send him here so he could rebuild his life. It… didn’t have any discernible features, its voice didn’t sound real, and I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman or something else entirely. It was only vaguely human.”

Leliana sat back and stared at Erik. “Were you truly sent by the Maker?”

“The Maker, God, whatever you want to call it,” he shrugged and glanced out the window, “It never told me what it was. But what it did shouldn’t have been possible.”

Evelyn thought for a moment about what Erik was suggesting: that his world’s God, or the Maker, or whatever His true name was, sent him to Thedas. It was an astounding concept, but it was dangerous, and for more reasons than one. Leliana already had a crisis of faith despite her deep conviction for the Chant. To suggest he was truly ferried to another world by the Maker could do any number of things for her. And that wasn’t bringing up the wider implication for the rest of the world. Most of the people in the South already believed the two of them were send by Andraste and the Maker’s hand despite neither of them having a concrete view on the subject. But if he suddenly changed his view, it could make him a target.

“It doesn’t matter. If it really was my mother, I got to see her one last time,” he said, unclasping the leather band and placing it around his neck, “Few are lucky to say the same.”

He stood and grabbed a shirt from his dresser before pulling a pair of socks on and stomping a pair of leather boots over them. He ran water through his hair and quickly brushed the knots out before Leliana spoke up.

“Where are you going?”

“To go find something to eat, and then maybe talk to Aedan.”

He swept out of the room quickly, both women watching his departure with silence. Leliana sighed and shifted.

“He’s not the same person he was before,” she said, “He’s more reserved.”

“He just recently received a thousand years of memories,” Evelyn reminded her Spymaster, “Talk to him about it. He has no one to discuss it with.”

She didn’t respond, instead standing and throwing her own shoes on and pinning her Inquisition sigil over her breast.

“You should know, my agents will be arriving in the Arbor Wilds soon,” she informed Evelyn, “I suspect we’ll be receiving reports by the end of next week.”

Evelyn nodded. “Keep me updated. As soon as they have a good lay of the land out there, we march. Everyone.”

Leliana nodded. “Of course. You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

She nodded and left Leliana to prepare for the day, thinking about what she should do. There was largely nothing to be done; until their spies reported back, there were no pressing matters to be had, and there were no more crises in the field that demanded her immediate attention. She had the day largely to herself despite nothing to do, and thinking about it further, she decided to spend some time with Cullen. She hadn’t seen him in a personal context more than once or twice since her return from the incident with Bianca, and it would do her some good to spend some time together. Evelyn decided to do just that and descended the tower to search for Cullen.

* * *

It was rather dark out as Erik overlooked the valley from the battlements, thinking about the upcoming battle in the Arbor Wilds, and how Evelyn had chosen to drink from the Well of Sorrows. It wasn’t the choice he would have had her made, but in the end, it was her choice, not his; she was Inquisitor, and that meant her word was final on everything, even if he did not agree. Everything, that was, except for his own personal war with Solas. He closed his eyes and felt for his connection to the eluvian network. Like the gentle tingle of a breath on the back of his neck, he could feel it: the nearest was still somewhere in the mountains nearby, inaccessible through the towering snow drifts and jagged peaks. Why it was there, Erik couldn’t say. Perhaps an old village lay there, a remnant of Elvhenan lost to darkness and frost.

He heard the subtle scraping of bare feet on the stone stairs behind him, and Erik raised an eyebrow. He was wondering when this confrontation would happen. Erik had slipped his hand one too many times to the old mage, and he was too smart to not put the pieces together. A small smile grew on his lips as the elf approached and stood to his right. They gazed together in silence into the frosted valley and twinkling lights of New Haven below, the only two souls on their small piece of the battlements. Erik knew Solas wanted to have this conversation as little as Erik did, perhaps even less. Still, it must be done.

“Champion,” Pride finally greeted quietly, drawing his hands to the small of his back. Erik smiled at Solas’s use of the unwanted title, knowing he was baiting him. Erik purposely bit the lure.

“Fen’Harel.”

Solas closed his eyes and clenched his jaw slightly, the only physical indication he gave of his discomfort with the title, or the fact that another soul in the fortress knew of it. Neither man spoke for a time after the veiled barbs in their greeting, and Erik began to wonder if the Dread Wolf knew what to say to him, even if he knew what must be discussed.

“How long have you known?” he finally asked after the long bout of silence.

“Since before I was brought to Thedas.”

Solas sighed. “Another part of the tale told on Earth?”

“Of course,” Erik nodded, “Do you not think it would be a great twist when told as a story?”

The elf allowed himself a grim chuckle. “Yes, I suppose it would be. Though it is less great when the mistake is one’s own.” He took a breath and seemed to gather his thoughts before continuing his questions.

“Why did you not tell anyone?” he pressed.

“Truthfully? This isn’t a story anymore. I had no idea whether you had the power to do anything about it, or whether anyone would honestly believe me,” he shrugged.

“I suppose the truth would be too much to bear,” Solas nodded, “Especially from one that saw the future as if they were there.”

“It’s more than that,” Erik explained, “Time is a fickle thing. I have no idea what the repercussions of my actions will be, or whether you will end up doing more harm than good in your goal. There are things that you will do in the relatively near future that may give us an advantage.”

“Such as?”

“I know how much you despise the Qun,” he pointed out, “I hate them just as much as you do. Did you know they’ll try to assassinate all Thedas’s leaders in 9:44 Dragon? Your intervention will give Evelyn the knowledge she needs to stop their plot. Not long after that, the Antaam will take Ventus. A god that hates the Qunari could be a boon to the free people of Thedas, even if his ultimate goal may doom them all.”

“I am no god, Erik. I am simply a man that has made far too many mistakes in his life,” Solas shook his head. Erik turned toward him finally, thinking about how to make the stubborn elf see his point of view.

“There was a religion in my world. My ancestors worshiped gods known as the Æsir and the Vanir. They were killable. As a matter of fact, Ragnarök tells the tale of all their deaths. Just because someone isn’t unkillable doesn’t mean they aren’t essentially gods to everyone else.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Solas admitted. Erik sighed.

“You know the Chantry’s tale. They say the Maker created the Veil. We both know that’s untrue. It was created right here, at _Tarasyl'an Te'las._ An act attributed to God, done by you,” Erik hummed, “It doesn’t matter whether you’re truly a god or now, Solas. When your strength returns, there will be no discernible difference between you and a god.”

Solas leaned against the stones in defeat. “And your plan to oppose me? I must assume you hope to stop the Veil from coming down.”

Erik shook his head. “I plan on working in the shadows, just as you are.”

Solas pursed his lips. “I see. And what of now? Do you plan to reveal my identity?”

“We still have a common enemy, Pride. As long as Corypheus exists, we’re allies.”

They returned to silence for another brief period of time, and Erik pondered his body’s response. There was no fear, no apprehension. He knew not whether it was because of his prior knowledge or because of his true age, but he felt no fear confronting a man literally called the Dread Wolf. It was comforting to know his clarity hadn’t left him.

“I suppose it it two of the oldest beings in Thedas, then, moving against one another in silence for the future of this world.”

Erik nodded. “A chess game with the abyss,” he paused and licked his lips, “Make no mistake, Solas. Evelyn may consider you a friend, and she may try and find a way to spare your life, but I will not. I will kill you to stop the destruction of this wold, if I must.”

“And I will kill you to fulfill my plans, if I must,” Solas warned.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page about this,” Erik let himself have a grim smile. Solas gave him a small smirk and drew himself from his resting position. He began to back away.

“A chess game, then,” Solas nodded, “King’s pawn to E4.”

Erik let out small chuckle. “Pawn to E5.”

And so Erik’s chess game began in earnest.

* * *

Evelyn pushed open the door to Cullen’s office and swept into the room. She grinned as he did a double take at her arrival, clearly anticipating one of his officers rather than her. The clear lines of stress on his brow dissolved instantaneously as he slumped backward into his chair.

"There you are,” he tossed the ledger to his desk and ran his hands over his face. Her smile grew as she leaned her hip into the side of the desk and crossed her arms, studying Cullen as he seemed to practically melt into his chair.

"Were you waiting for me?" she asked with hints of humor and seduction in her tone. Cullen began to stammer.

"Yes – I mean, no," he corrected himself as he stood to greet her. She planted a quick kiss on his lips as he took her hands in his and smiled down at her. She glanced at the pile of papers on his desk, no doubt plans and missives for the upcoming march on the Arbor Wilds.

"I can come back later, if you'd prefer," she offered, knowing better than to interrupt him in the middle of his rather chaotic process.

"No. Please stay," he half begged, "It’s been a long day. A break from endless paperwork and this blasted office would be a boon.”

Evelyn hummed her agreement as she rubbed his arm gently.

“We have some dealings in Ferelden,” Cullen continued, “I was hoping you might accompany me. When you can spare the time, of course."

Evelyn blinked. She hadn’t heard about any new dealings in Ferelden territory. Her mind briefly switched to business mode.

"Is something wrong?"

"What? No. I would rather explain there,” Cullen quickly became rather meek, “If you wish to go."

She nodded. "We've got a week or so before we march. I believe there is time now."

"I will make the necessary arrangements."

There were no dealings. Cullen simply wanted to steal her away from Skyhold for a few days. Not that she minded, truthfully. They both needed time away from their duties, and their quiet escape was a rather nice retreat. He led them to a small lake in southern Ferelden, near the village of Honnleath. They arrived at night, when both moons were high in the sky and a low, calming mist hovered over the tranquil waters of the lake, the moonlight reflecting on the mirrored surface. They stood on a short dock on the lake’s edge, watching as fireflies glittered on the shore nearby.

"Where are we?" she asked quietly.

He took her hand with a gentleness she doubted many knew he had. "You walk into danger every day. I wanted to take you away from that. If only for a moment,” he paused and glanced around, “I grew up not far from here. This place was always quiet."

She smiled gently, knowing with certainty that none in the Inquisition knew this about him. Apart from Erik, perhaps, but the thousand-year-old spirit born in another world didn’t count. She wrapped her arms around his bicep and leaned her head into his shoulder, taking in the serene view.

"Alone with a mage,” she hummed after minutes of silence, masking her insecurity in the moment, “That doesn't concern you?"

"The Templars had rules on... fraternization,” he let out a small sigh, “But I'm no longer bound by them."

"I know, but…" she bit her lip and tried to see it from his point of view, "You've seen the worst mages have to offer. How can you not see that in me?"

"I don't. If I've given you reason to doubt..."

Evelyn thought back to her first few months with the Inquisition, and how despite how undeniably attracted she was to him, she was still terrified of his presence, even after being named Inquisitor. She learned that the fear was rather unfounded, but Cullen didn’t know that. Before she could say anything, he let out a bitter laugh.

"Of course I have,” he drew her closer and pressed his hand into her stomach possessively, “Whatever I fear of magic, I no longer see that fear in those that wield it. I see none of it in you."

She relaxed into his chest at his explanation, her back absorbing the warmth from his body. He rested his chin gently on the top of her head. When he spoke, the vibration from his chest sent shivers down her spine.

"The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training. My brother gave me this," he fished into his pocket and pulled out a Fereldan coin, its edged slightly scratched and its face just barely dulled, "It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our _faith_ should see us through."

He spat ‘faith’ with bitterness, and Evelyn knew that bitterness was founded in over a decade of broken promises and servitude. She decided not to touch on the hurt that the tone carried, knowing it would ruin the moment they had together.

"You broke the Order's rules?” she giggled sardonically, “I'm shocked."

"Until a year ago, I was very good at following them… most of the time,” he sighed and gazed down at the simple token in his palm, “This was the only thing I took from Ferelden that the Templars didn't give me." Cullen took her hand and outstretched it; he gently laid the coin in her hand. Her mouth dropped open and she began to stammer.

“Cullen, no, this is–”

"Humor me,” he murmured with confidence, “Evelyn, we don't know what you'll face before the end. This can't hurt."

She swallowed thickly and looked at her hand, feeling the hard, smooth edges of the coin resting in her palm. It would have seemed a simple gesture for anyone else, perhaps even pointless. But to give her a memento from Cullen’s old life, perhaps his only one, was an extremely heavy gesture.

"I'll keep it safe," she promised, sliding it into a pocket; she would have to remind herself to wrap it in wire and wear it around her neck.

"Good. I know it's foolish, but I'm glad," Cullen said as he pulled her tighter.

The silence lay heavy once more, bringing with it another bout of calm and peace. They watched together as a fish just barely broke its dorsal fin above the water, sending a pattern of ripples across the surface of the water and warping the light of the moons.

"Did you come here often?" she asked him, rubbing her hand along his forearm.

"I loved my siblings, but they were very loud. I would come here to clear my head,” he let out a small laugh, full of nostalgia, “Of course, they always found me eventually."

"You were happy here?"

"I was,” Cullen pressed his lips to her crown, “I still am."

"But how will you survive without a parade of messengers and war reports?" Evelyn joked, her mouth curling into a smirk.

"I should be able to last the day. Besides, I told Leliana to send word if–"

She twisted in his arms to look him in the eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"Cullen. You. Me. Alone. Pretty lake."

"Right,” he stammered, visibly relaxing, “Of course."

They sat on the dock together until the sun rose, simply taking in the peace and quiet in each other’s presence. When the first rays of day broke over the trees, Evelyn felt a happiness she couldn’t explain, telling herself that no matter what happened, past or future, it was all worth it for that moment alone.

* * *

Aedan found Leliana in what seemed to be her usual haunt, high in the rookery with the birds. He heard a caw to his right and spotted a raven with a tuft of red feathers behind its head. Baron Plucky eyed him menacingly, and he shot a glare right back at the demon of a bird. They both falsely jolted toward one another as if going in for an attack, and Aedan scoffed at the menace on his perch.

“Please don’t antagonize him,” Leliana asked from her desk, “You know he already doesn’t like you. Don’t make it worse.”

He made his way over to the desk, where she absently scratched a brown nug’s ear, the animal’s eyes and head lolling back in ecstasy at the attention. As he sat down, the nug eyed him briefly before returning to basking in the attention it was receiving from the Orlesian.

“I would’ve thought you would leave your nugs in Val Royeaux,” Aedan commented confusedly. Leliana gave a soft smile and looked up from whatever paperwork she was reading.

“I did,” she confirmed, “Fudge here was a gift from Erik, not long after we began seeing each other.”

He raised an eyebrow, his heightened senses hinting at Andraste’s Grace. “And the perfume? Another gift from Erik?”

She nodded. “Before he began courting me. He was so flustered. To see a man such as he nervous was rather the sight. It was cute.”

Aedan laced his fingers. “And Josephine? What does she think of this… tryst?”

“She gave him a lecture when she first learned of it. Whatever he told her, it seemed to soothe her,” she paused, “Though I don’t think she’s quite forgiven him for staying behind in the Fade.”

“Have you?”

Leliana paused her scratching of the nug’s ear. She frowned in thought, and Aedan clenched his jaw in frustration.

“I didn’t at first. But he did what he did because he didn’t want the Inquisitor to die. She’s like a sister to Erik. I imagine I would have done the same in his position,” she admitted, “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t trust him,” Aedan admitted, “That man… spirit… whatever in the Void he is, he has secrets.”

“Of course he does,” Leliana shrugged, “I have secrets. You have secrets. We all do.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

The Spymaster pursed her lips and scowled at him. “Aedan, the only secrets he keeps are ones that would endanger myself or those he cares about. He has given very good reasons as to why he has kept things undisclosed, and he has told us exactly when and under what circumstances he will reveal those to me and the rest of the Inquisition.”

“And you just… what? Trust him?” he balked.

“Of course I do. The man knows the future, Aedan. He’s seen everything from the First Blight onward. He holds more wisdom than anyone in our organization, perhaps the world. He would never keep things from us that would directly harm us.”

“I refuse to believe that,” he admitted, crossing his arms.

“Why?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“He has a look in his eye. The same one Morrigan held during the Blight while she sat on the –”

“While she sat on what?”

“It doesn’t matter. Morrigan revealed a secret to me that changed the course of the Blight. A dangerous secret. Erik has the same look in his eyes. He’s clinging to something big, and whatever it is, it’s extremely dangerous.”

Leliana studied him for a moment. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt, Red,” he sighed, “You’re like a sister to me as much as the Inquisitor is to Erik. I don’t want him to harm you, physically or through whatever you two have going on.”

“What we have ‘going on’ is a relationship,” she bit out, “A stable one. One that I intend to keep for as long as I can; forever, if possible. Erik came from another world as if by divine providence, and his love for me could only have been graced to me by the Maker himself.”

“Do you really believe that? That he came from another world, and he’s not just a spirit of will?”

“I have seen his world, Aedan. He brought me to his… territory? His place in the Fade, and he showed me his childhood and his old profession.”

“And? Was it any different than here?” Aedan pressed, still not convinced.

“What I saw was unimaginable,” Leliana admitted, “Machines made of metal that flew above the clouds. Ones that he jumped out of into combat. Machines such as those that rained fire and death down on his nation’s enemies with more fury than a high dragon. I saw buildings that seemed to touch the sky, made entirely of metal and glass. Earth – Erik’s old world – is one of marvels I never even imagined were possible. Erik is telling the truth.”

Aedan gazed down at the wood of the table’s surface, unsure what to say. He still wasn’t convinced; he was the sort of man that had to see to believe, and as much as Erik claimed the strange weapon he owned shot pieces of metal faster than sound, he had never seen it. Nor had he seen this world Leliana claimed was real. He had only seen a man, or spirit, with a sketchy past and even sketchier secrets; Aedan worried that those secrets could burn the world if he kept them to himself.

“Did you know he showed us some of the art of his world?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Art?”

“Something called a ‘movie’, or a ‘film’,” Leliana murmured, “‘Lord of the Rings’, he called it. It told a story like a play, but it seemed as real as anything I’d ever seen. It’s… hard to describe. Moving pictures, realer than any paintings by the greatest artists of Orlais and Antiva. Morrigan saw it, as well, if you don’t believe me. Kieran, too. Ask either of them.”

“Perhaps I will,” Aedan sighed. He still wasn’t convinced, and Leliana could clearly tell. She leaned back into her chair, studying him.

“Erik is a very good man, Aedan. He has shown me more love, caring, and support than anyone in my life. He and I share everything, save for one secret he has yet to reveal. I appreciate your concern, but Erik is the love of my life. You cannot sway me from that or convince me to scrutinize his actions.”

“You’re the best spy I know,” Aedan grumbled, “If you trust him, that’s enough for me, I suppose. If you truly love him, that’s more than enough.”

“Good,” she smiled, “He’s deserving of trust. Even more deserving of my love. I hope you can see that in time.”

Aedan nodded. “I’ll still fucking gut him if he hurts you.”

“If he ever tears my heart out like that, I’ll do it myself.”

Aedan approached Erik in the upper courtyard. He was putting torch to a longsword with a qunari woman and a blonde elf, the three of them laughing maniacally as the blade lit up with flame. Erik swung it a few times, no hesitation in his swings. He was a skilled fighter, Aedan could at least give him that.

“Erik,” Aedan called. The man in question turned his unnerving gaze toward him as he approached.

“Aedan Fucking Cousland,” he greeted, “What can I do for you?”

Aedan glanced at the blade. “You know you could have just had a fire rune etched into the blade, right?”

“I know,” he shrugged, “I wanted to see if dunking it in oil would work.”

“You’re a thousand years old and you didn’t know?”

“Do you think spirits use swords?” Erik laughed, “I’ve only been swinging one of these things for a little over a year and a half.” He tossed the blade into a puddle, and the fire went out with a hiss.

“You aren’t here to talk about flaming longswords. What’s up?” the spirit-man asked.

“This looks heavy. I’m out,” the elf said, “Let’s go, Herah.”

“Right behind you,” the qunari responded, following the elf woman. Aedan watched them leave and then turned back to Erik.

“I don’t trust you,” he told the red-haired man.

Erik shrugged. “Understandable. You’ve known me for, what, six weeks? Eight?”

“No, it’s not just that,” Aedan shook his head, “I can deal with mistrust. But that becomes a problem when I learn that the man I mistrust is in a relationship with my best friend. For all intents and purposes, my sister.”

“Ah,” Erik sighed, crossing his arms, “Look, I get it. You were gone for two years, you come back, and all the sudden your friend is in love with a man that you’ve never met.”

“A man that has secrets,” he added, “Dangerous ones.”

The redhead shrugged. “True. But those secrets won’t be secrets for much longer. As soon as Corypheus is defeated, I’ll reveal them.”

“Why not sooner?”

“Because as you said, its a dangerous secret. A world-changing one. And we can’t afford to have Evelyn’s focus, or the Inquisition’s, shifted from Corypheus. Not while he’s still wreaking havoc across the continent.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Aedan sighed before raising an eyebrow, “You realize the Magister is functionally immortal?”

“I’m well aware.”

“Then how are we going to get around that?”

“That’s why we’re going to the Arbor Wilds,” Erik explained. He glanced at the tavern and gave a wave to a tanned mage in a clearly Tevinter outfit.

“If it bleeds, we can kill it,” he added.

“And if it doesn’t bleed?” Aedan asked the man.

“We’re still gonna fucking kill it.”

He sighed. He knew the attitude well; it was the same one he had storming Fort Drakon at the end of the Blight. Aedan learned the hard way that confidence such as that could be a weakness. But he couldn’t really expect any less from a spirit of will. And a powerful one, at that. He studied the man for a little while longer, deciding not to press the matter further.

“Is it true you come from another world?”

“Completely true,” Erik nodded.

“And your weapon? Does it truly shoot pieces of metal?” he pressed.

“Yep,” he responded calmly, “Don’t worry, you’ll see it in action soon enough. Hopefully it’ll get rid of some of that mistrust of yours.”

Aedan prayed to the Maker that was the case.

* * *

Erik sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the pendant in his hand as the water of his bath dripped from his long hair onto his wrist. His mother’s runic pendant. The one he saw her wear every day of her life, never removing it or adding anything to the strap that held it. He didn’t understand how the token could make its way to him, across dimensions and through dreams. Either he was going insane, or the spirit of his mother had come to him. It was a harrowing thought, and a hopeful one. He knew he wasn’t insane; or, if he was, he was too mad to know the difference between reality and imagination. The rune was unknown to Thedas. The dwarven alphabet everyone used for the common script held nothing of the sort. And he knew he wasn’t hallucinating the rest of the world. The sensations he’d felt – the pain and happiness and love – told him it was real. No hallucination could ever come close to reality, even the ravings of a madman in a padded room. So his conclusion was that everything he experienced was real.

And that begged another question: if his experiences were real, and that truly was his mother, why did she come to him? He knew he never got to say goodbye. She was gone before he could see her in the hospital bed, visit her one final in that sterile room that was stuffed with machines that beeped and droned a lifeless rhythm of the end of a life. But if her soul had truly passed on to whatever awaited them all, why had she returned, even as briefly as she did? To give comfort? To say farewell to her only child? Erik knew he still bore the scar of the phone call he received – the one that told him that she had passed in her sleep, and that her final words were his own name. It traumatized him, he knew that. Even his now-spiritual nature couldn’t hide what her death had done to him. He knew he was scared of being alone. Of never truly finding a place he belonged. It was a fear so deep that he doubted the Nightmare even knew of it, for in the end, Erik suspected it was what drove him in everything he did, be it on Earth or on Thedas. It was something that never went away and never would go away.

He was dodging the question at hand. He recognized that, so he forced himself back on track. His mother appeared to him. Not a spirit; he would have recognized another of his kind, even as the halfling he’d become. It was truly Annette Andersen. She even gave a short shovel talk to Leliana. Which meant two things. That there truly _was_ life after death, and that Thedas and Earth held a connection deeper than any anyone could truly comprehend. He could only conclude that the two worlds shared an afterlife. And if they shared an afterlife, they certainly shared a creator. Which meant that –

“I was sent here by God,” he breathed in awe.

He heard the soft footfall of Leliana approaching from the washroom. She was less silent around him; whether that was because she knew he was jumpy with those that managed to sneak up on him or because she now trusted him implicitly, he couldn’t say. He only knew that it was an intentional gesture on her part, and it made him love her all the more for it.

The bedsheets ruffled and the mattress depressed lightly as she moved across it. He felt the gentle caress of her fingers on the back of his neck, running their way down his spine as she traced the myriad of tattoos that reached from his left shoulder toward his upper back. He relaxed into the touch but didn’t take his eyes off the memento in his palm.

“Your mother’s gift?” she asked gently. Erik nodded, still not turning in place. She hummed and straddled his waist from behind, drawing her form to him and pressing her breasts to his shoulder blades. She ran her hands along his ribs; his abs jumped involuntarily in response.

“What does it mean to you?”

“I never got to say goodbye to her,” Erik admitted, “I only received a message that she passed. That her final words were my name. And then the next time I saw her, I was carrying her to her final resting place.”

“What did she say to you? The part we didn’t hear?” Leliana pressed, her chin resting on his shoulder.

“She said she would see me again,” Erik admitted. Leliana’s chin shook with her head on his shoulder.

“That’s not all she said,” she deduced with a sigh, “Erik, if it’s private, I understand. But you know you can trust me. If you want to speak of it, I’ll listen.’

“She quoted _Lord of the Rings_ ,” Erik let out a small laugh, “She introduced me to fantasy stories, you know. Read me _The Hobbit_ and _The Chronicles of Narnia_ as bedtime stories. It’s fitting she would quote _Lord of the Rings_.”

“What did she say?” Leliana murmured, still working her ministrations on his stomach. Erik swallowed and wiped his eyes.

“‘Death is just another path, one that we all must take,’” he recalled, “‘The grey rain curtain of the world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it. White shores… and a far green country under a swift sunrise.’”

She stopped moving, his better half either digesting what his mother had said or too stunned to move. Another drop of water fell to his wrist, this time mixed with salt and sorrow. Erik found he didn’t have the energy to wipe it away.

“Was she–”

“Undoubtedly,” Erik confirmed the question he knew she had, even without hearing it voiced, “She was using the quote to describe Eternity. To remind me that I’ll see her again. One day.”

“I… she was from Earth. If you’re here, why would you see each other after you pass on?” Leliana stammered.

“The only conclusion is that Earth and Thedas have the same creator, just as I suggested when everyone first met me,” Erik shrugged, “And that the souls of the dead both go to the same place when they pass on.”

“So you truly were sent by the Maker to aid us,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his skin. Erik thought about their mutual conclusion for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. I wasn’t sent to aid you. I was sent to _you_ , specifically.”

She pulled back just a bit. “To me?”

“A truly omnipotent being would have seen what I would feel for you,” he explained, “I was so miserable on Earth because I had no one. My trust was broken entirely. God… the Maker… whatever you want to call it, He sent me here because you were here. Every moment I’m with you is worth everything I’ve been through to get me here. You mean more to me than anything in my life. I want to spend every waking moment of the rest of my life with you, and then I want us to spend eternity together, whatever that looks like.”

“Erik…”

“Coming here was the greatest thing that will ever happen to me,” he said twisting in her embrace to face her, “Not because of the world, or because I was given a new chance at my life. It’s because I met you.”

Leliana’s eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. He lip quivered in a way he’d never seen before; in fact, he doubted he had ever seen her with such open emotion. He sniffled and reached around her neck, clasping the necklace’s strap together at the base of her neck and letting the adornment rest between her breasts.

“Keep it safe for me,” he practically begged. She looked down at the talisman and nodded. Erik pressed his forehead to hers as they leaned back on their bed, unaware and uncaring of the world around them for the remainder of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for I Will Follow You into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoR0mGq_z2I
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posting. My treatment sucks and I went home for the holidays, which meant I had to contact the hospital there and have my medical records sent to them so they could continue the treatment while I'm home. The posting should be more regular for a bit.
> 
> For those that have only seen the movies, Gandalf doesn't actually say the grey rain curtain quote in the book. It is the narrator as Frodo sails to Valinor. The original quote is, "And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise."


	53. Holy Thunderforce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang marches to the Arbor Wilds. Leliana realizes that Erik does, in fact, have spirit tendencies. Evelyn gives a speech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Member when I said posting would be more regular? I 'member.

Evelyn took a shaky breath as she slipped her breastplate over her shoulders and strapped the sides. She tested the edge on her staff’s blade and spun the length of her focus lazily in her wrist. The serault infused glass let out a low hum as it shimmered with arcane energy, reacting in harmony with her connection to the energies of the Fade. She grabbed her bag of personal items and glanced one last time around her chambers, a feeling of melancholic nostalgia washing over her. The chambers had become something of a safe haven for her, a place away from the madness and destruction she was constantly faced with whenever she and her companions ventured out into the world. The stones had been there for everything since she’d arrived in Skyhold for the first time. They were there for her after Halamshiral, when she struggled with the moral conundrum of letting Celene die. They were there for her after Erik chose to stay behind in the Fade. They were there every time she fought with herself over whether to push her relationship with Cullen further, and they were there for her when she needed a place to allow Erik to let go of Earth.

But she would not see them again for some time. They were marching to war once again, and this time, it was quite literally do or die. If Corypheus got to this ‘Well of Sorrows’ before they did, the world would end. She refused to let that happen. She would drink from the Well herself if it meant keeping its knowledge from Corypheus. She would slaughter her way through the Red Templars herself if she had to, and she would sacrifice every last one of her soldiers to do it, difficult as the idea was to stomach. Because she had to accept it was a possibility; they were going up against the bulk of the Elder One’s forces in the Arbor Wilds. There would no doubt be casualties. How heavy they would be would be determined soon. Erik couldn’t say how bloody it would be, and even if he did know, she doubted he would be willing to divulge the information for the sake of her sanity alone. She silently appreciated it. The knowledge that she was asking all those men and women to potentially die so she could succeed was a harsh reality she’d already faced twice, and facing it a third time was something she did not look forward to. She huffed a breath and wished she could simply stay in her chambers.

Evelyn knew that was impossible. She rolled her shoulders and slung her staff on her back, descending the stairs down the tower and toward the main hall. The doors were all shut as she passed, and there was no noise drifting from any of them. She supposed she was the last to prepare herself for the march ahead. It didn’t bother her; she was the busiest among them. It only made sense she was the last to don her armor. The march would wait for her, and they had ample time to meet Corypheus’s army in the Wilds.

She emerged from the tower and stepped into the Great Hall. All throughout the room, conversation died and heads turned. She paid them no true mind anymore. She had a job to do, and the reverence of those around her was inconsequential. Nobles and commoners alike wished her the blessings of the Maker and the guidance of Andraste as she stalked past, and she gave a few obligatory nods and waves. No scouts or soldiers guarded the hall. Only a token garrison was being left behind, barely enough to defend the already defensible fortress from anything Corypheus may attempt. She and Cullen had estimated a total of 95% of the Inquisition’s forces were called to battle in the Arbor Wilds. Those that were not already on high-priority missions or were essential to their postings were recalled and ordered to meet them in the woods of the southern Dales. The remainder would continue their missions or guard their postings and holdings across the continent.

She stepped out into the morning sunlight and forced her head high as she descended the stairs, largely ignoring the gazes of the non-combatants remaining in Skyhold, she arrived in the lower courtyard, where Dennet had Epona at the ready, while the others riding in her company awaited near their own mounts. It was odd to see Leliana and Josephine prepared to ride with them, though she supposed one was already extremely used to combat. Leliana stood by Erik, adorned in roguish armor she likely had always owned but had no reason to don until they marched. Josephine, on the other hand, was dressed in a silver and black dress, similar to the one she normally wore daily, either completely oblivious to how rough the ride to the Arbor Wilds would be or completely refusing to look less than her best before Emperor Gaspard and the nobles of Orlais that would ride with him. Evelyn took the reins from Dennet with a nod of thanks.

“Maker be with you, Inquisitor,” the horsemaster bowed.

“And to you, Dennet,” she nodded, “Thank you for all your service.”

“Inquisitor!”

Evelyn turned at the call and saw Dagna running toward them, an eerily glowing red disc in her hand. She skidded to a halt in front of Evelyn and thrust the disc upward.

“I nearly forgot to give it to you,” she panted, “Just finished this last night. This rune should destroy Samson’s armor.”

Evelyn gingerly took it. “It looks like this is made of red lyrium. Is it safe to handle?”

“It should be,” Dagna shrugged, “I coated it to keep the user protected, but I can’t guarantee anything. I would have used regular lyrium, but red lyrium resonates differently than normal lyrium.”

“Meaning?”

“It sings a different song,” Cole explained, “Twisted, hateful, diseased, the red is discordant where the blue is harmonious.”

Evelyn grimaced at the rune and turned toward Erik. He held his hand up, already knowing what she had in mind, and she tossed it toward him. He snatched it from the air and slid it into a pocket.

“Keep it safe, Erik,” she ordered, “I have a feeling we’ll be needing it.”

“Oh, we’re going to need it,” he confirmed, “I’ll keep it safe.”

She swung herself into her saddle, the rest of the Inner Circle mirroring her actions. Morrigan and Aedan rode up to her side.

“‘Tis unlikely Corypheus has discovered the location of the eluvian,” Morrigan postulated, “Or the Well.”

“Good,” she grimly spat, “Let’s get to it before him, then.”

“The army is ready in the valley, Inquisitor,” Cullen informed her, “Simply say the word and we shall march.”

Evelyn took a calming breath. “Let’s march.”

They rode out of Skyhold and to the lift, and Evelyn was stricken with how similar the image was to the march into the Western Approach. The only difference was that the sky was clear save for a few clouds, whereas their march to the Approach was greeted with a haze of overcast. She liked to think the sky was a sign.

They descended the lift in silence, only the clanking of the mechanism audible between them all. As they reached the bottom, they began to check their weapons and armor, ensuring everything was present and in working order. The final sound to grace the lift was the sound of Erik loading a magazine into his rifle and chambering a round with the unique _clack_ the otherworldly weapon made. He slid it into a leather holster he had specially made for his saddle and straightened on his horse’s back. He turned toward Evelyn and smirked.

“Something funny?” she asked in confusion. The doors opened before them, revealing New Haven ahead.

“A friend of mine asked me what my ultimate fantasy was, once,” he recalled, “I told him, ‘I want to ride into battle on a unicorn, wielding a flaming sword, against an army of demons.’ This is pretty fucking close. If only Isaac here were a unicorn.”

“Really? _That’s_ your ultimate fantasy?” Leliana and Josephine asked at the same time.

“No,” he laughed, “It’s number three. Number one was falling in love, which I’ve already accomplished. Number two is being as badass as the Doom Slayer.”

“Who is the ‘Doom Slayer’?” Aedan asked in confusion. Erik twisted in his saddle and grinned madly.

“We find ourselves surrounded by demons and Red Templars and you just might find out.”

Their mounts trotted out into the snow-covered streets of the city the Inquisition guarded. The citizens called out to them, passing them even more wishes of safety and protection and of Andraste’s guidance. They found their way to the bulk of their army and Evelyn gave a nod to Cullen, who saluted and barked the order to march. They moved quickly out of the valley and toward the largest battle any of them would probably ever see.

* * *

Erik was amused by Josephine’s obvious discomfort during the march. She rubbed her lower back more often than Erik would have assumed and swatted at the insects that were attracted by the perfume she decided to wear. Still, she insisted on marching with the rest of the Inquisition, and that meant dealing with nature.

“Regretting your decision yet, Josie?” Erik laughed. Leliana swatted his leg from her horse and scowled at him.

“I didn’t think there would be so many insects,” she admitted, adjusting herself in the saddle.

“Just wait,” he smirked, “Thar Arbor Wilds are going to be way worse. It’s basically a cold jungle. So many bugs.”

The Antivan let out a groan, and Leliana shot another glare at him from her horse.

“Must you antagonize her?” Leliana asked sharply. Erik merely shrugged.

“Hey, I just think it’s funny,” he defended, “She didn’t _have_ to come.”

“No,” Josephine defended, “But I felt it was necessary to show solidarity with the–”

“With who? The Inquisition? Our Orlesian allies? This isn’t the Winter Palace, Ambassador. We’re going into the Arbor Wilds for two reasons: to get water from an ancient, magical well, and to slaughter literally _everything else_ in the forest. Unless you’re geared up to rip and tear with the rest of us, you don’t need to be here.”

“Erik!” Leliana snapped.

“What? I’m being honest. We have no idea whether the forward camp will be attacked. Josephine isn’t going to be able to defend herself.”

“I believe I can handle myself, thank you very much,” the Antivan pursed her lips.

“Against a human, sure. But whatever bardic training you have won’t protect you. Not against a Red Templar, or a despair demon, or a Behemoth, or the Red Lyrium Dragon,” Erik tried to calm himself, “Or Corypheus himself. Did you know he’s going to make an appearance?”

The Ambassador paled. “He’s going to be at the battle?”

“He’s going to be more than just there. He’s going to fight. What if he gets the idea to attack the base? Will you be able to hold your own against a would-be god?”

“Will you?” Josephine snapped, “Can you stand up against a thousand-year-old Magister?”

“I’ve already done it. And need I remind you that I’m actually older than he is?”

“Age does not equate to power, Erik,” Leliana said softly.

“My experience says otherwise. Age leads to wisdom, which applied correctly, leads to power and the will to crush anything between yourself and your goal. You must have the will to do anything to accomplish your goals. Does she have that will? The unending drive to dominate your foes and grind your obstacles to dust and ash? Has she proven herself able to withstand forces so great they would break the world if left unchecked?”

Both women remained silent, looking extremely uncomfortable and possibly a bit fearful.

“No,” Erik continued, “There are only five here that have that fire. Aedan proved himself when he faced Urthemiel during the Blight. Marian proved herself against both the Arishok and Meredith Stannard. Evelyn has proven herself during this war we fight. I proved myself against the Nightmare, and Solas –”

“Erik,” the elf’s voice drifted a warning from his left, “Calm yourself. Your spiritual side has provoked itself.”

He took a pause and realized Solas was right. He _had_ provoked himself. He looked back on the last moments and realized his voice had become less human and more spiritual. The doubling effect had worsened, and glancing down at a puddle, he noticed his eyes were glowing brighter than normal. Erik blinked and took a deep, soothing breath. He glanced at the still water again and saw the glow beginning to dim. He felt himself growing a bit sheepish.

“I’m sorry,” Erik sighed wearily, “I… got away from myself.”

“What do you mean you got away from yourself?” Leliana breathed, “Erik, that wasn’t _you_.”

“I know. But at the same time, it _was_ me. That was who I was for a thousand years,” he shook his head, “I will not change over the course of months. But I will be better about controlling it.”

“I’m sorry for questioning your presence,” he called to Josephine, “You have as much right to be here as the rest of us, regardless of your prowess in battle.”

He turned his gaze toward the Orlesian beside him. “And I’m sorry if I scared you. An outburst like that won’t happen again.”

He rode ahead for a bit, knowing that he was being completely honest, because he had the will to make it so.

Erik crawled into the bedroll next to Leliana and cracked his back; she raised an eyebrow at the sound and he shrugged.

“I’m old, okay?”

“I’m older than you and I don’t – wait, never mind,” she hummed.

“No, you’re right. I’ve had a physical body for about twenty-nine years,” Erik shrugged, “I still consider myself twenty-nine in most ways.”

“Is it odd? Having half your mind tell you one thing and half tell you another?” she asked with curiosity.

“Not really. It’s not like I have multiple personalities,” he said after a moment of thought, “It’s all me. I’m just twenty-nine as a human and twelve hundred as a spirit.”

“That doesn’t get confusing?”

“Oh, it does. But it’s like a different life. My time as a full-blown spirit was like a dream, in a way. I only recently realized it wasn’t a dream and that it’s something I should embrace,” he explained.

“You aren’t afraid of losing your humanity?”

Erik bit his lip and thought about the question for a moment. “I don’t think so. Spirits don’t have the range of emotion or the creativity humans do… or any mortal being does, for that matter. I have that, so as much as I’m a spirit of will, I can’t ever be wholly be a spirit. In a lot of ways, I’m more human than anything else.”

Leliana didn’t respond to that, and Erik was rather glad of it. It likely meant she believed him, which was a good thing, since he was telling the truth. A cricket chirped in the distance, echoing off the foliage around their camp. They drew themselves closer together and Erik blew out the lantern that hung from the top post of their tent. Leliana curled herself further into his side as the dark of the night overtook the interior of the tent; her time during the Blight still clearly plagued her, even if she did not show it.

“There’s a couple things you should know before we set foot in the Wilds,” Erik murmured. She hummed into his shoulder, so he continued.

"There are ancient elves near the Temple of Mythal," he said, "They've been in Uthenera - death-sleep - for millennia. When the battle starts, they'll wake and start attacking both sides to try and get everyone away from the Temple. If they engage you, don't hesitate."

"Understood," she said quietly, "Anything else?"

“After Evelyn drinks from the Well of Sorrows, Corypheus is going to find us,” he explained, taking note of how quickly she stopped breathing with the information, “We’re going to be okay. There’s an eluvian at the Well, and we’re going to escape through that. It'll be destroyed, and Corypheus won't be able to follow. We’ll be back in Skyhold immediately.”

“So, if we can’t find any of you, you’ve just gone through the eluvian,” she deduced.

“Exactly,” Erik nodded, “Once we’re back at Skyhold, I’ll find you that night in the Fade, just to let you know we’re all okay. That I’m okay."

“That would be appreciated,” she said softly, “Remember to find me. We’ll have problems when I get back to Skyhold, otherwise.”

He let out a chuckle and pulled the bedroll tighter around them before wrapping his arms around her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

Aedan was not happy about marching into battle. The last time he’d been in one, he was forced to burn half of Amaranthine to stop the Mother’s darkspawn. Luckily, there was only one darkspawn on the field, so he had that going for him, which was nice. What wasn’t nice, however, was the pseudo-archdemon said darkspawn had with him. Aedan had already fought one in his lifetime; he doubted another, as much as a facsimile as it was, would be much more fun. Erik wasn’t telling them anything, either, for fear of swaying the battle inadvertently. He supposed he would have the same fear if he had the foreknowledge the otherworldly man had, though. He kept reminding himself that as company and battalion-sized chunks of the army broke off and made their way through the woods of the Arbor Wilds.

“Ever fought in a place like this, Erik?” he asked the redheaded man, hoping to fill the silence as much as he was fishing for information.

“A good chunk of Africa is heavily forested,” Erik shrugged, “Been there a couple times. Though it’s hotter and more humid there. Closer to the equator.”

“Sounds like Seheron,” Iron Bull grunted.

“I always imagined Seheron being a lot like Vietnam,” Erik pondered, “Though I never fought in Nam. That was way before my time.”

“What happened there?” Dorian trotted up next to them.

“A very unpopular, very long war that my country eventually withdrew from,” he explained, stepping over a root as thick as Bull’s thigh, “It was pretty brutal, too. A bunch of bad shit happened in Vietnam.”

“Yep. That sounds like Seheron,” Bull nodded. Aedan glanced up at the horned man and squinted.

“Did you ever meet the Arishok, Bull?” he questioned. Bull nodded.

“The old one, yeah. Had to deliver a report to him. He had a nice rack,” the qunari reminisced, “Horns, I mean. Not tits. The new one doesn’t have horns at all.”

“I know,” Aedan smirked, “I know him, that’s why I asked.”  
“You know the Arishok?” Dorian gaped. Aedan adjusted Vigilance and Starfang on his back.

“He wasn’t the Arishok when I knew him. He was a Sten of the Beresaad. He traveled with me during the Blight. Stood beside me when I faced down the Archdemon.”

“Were you two friends?” Bull asked. Aedan thought for a minute.

“I like to think so,” he finally said, “He was rather… stoic. I can’t say whether our relationship was anything more than a mutual respect between warriors. He did tell me that if our peoples ever did battle, he would not look for me on the field.”

“That means you two were friends,” the qunari concluded, “The Beresaad are just like that. He named you basalit-an, you know. First thing he did as Arishok.”

“I heard I was named basalit-an,” Aedan recalled, “I didn’t know it was the first thing he did.”

“The very first. He did it even before cleaning up the old Arishok’s mess down in Kirkwall.”

They came upon the forward camp that Cullen had set up as the Inquisition’s headquarters. Erik dropped his aggressive posture as soon as they entered the confines and counted off the rest of the patrol. Aedan was the last, and he gave the other man a nod as he passed through the perimeter. The four of them moved to find Cullen at the command tent. Dorian pushed open the tent flap and stepped in. Erik followed after him and studied the tent. Cullen, Leliana, Morrigan, and Evelyn were staring over a map of the Arbor Wilds, marking off different sections of the map to indicate either cleared areas or areas that had large numbers of Red Templars. An equal number of markers future positions for Inquisition forces were scattered throughout the map; the Orlesian forces appeared to be to the west of their own.

Leliana glanced up. “Any sign of the Red Templars?”

Aedan shook his head. “Not to the north. If they’re in the area, they’re to the south.”

“None at all?” Evelyn asked, her eyes squinting in skepticism, “Are you sure?”

“Makes sense,” Erik frowned as he cleared his rifle and catching the round that ejected, “The Temple of Mythal is to the south. Corypheus is desperate. He wouldn’t waste forces doubling back for an assault.”

“No, that makes no sense,” Cullen grunted, “If they’re all to the south, the Red Templars would be flanked by ourselves to the north and the Orlesians to the west, as well as the Wardens to the east.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Erik tried to explain, “Corypheus is trying to get to the Well. The Templars are only here to slow us down. If he and Samson get to the Well of Sorrows before we do, we’re fucked.”

“So we need to cut through the Red Templars as fast as possible,” Evelyn hummed.

“’Twould appear so,” Morrigan agreed, “We should move quickly if we wish to keep the Well from Corypheus.”

“My agents haven’t confirmed where the Temple of Mythal is quite yet,” Leliana protested.

“Follow the Red Templars,” Erik suggested, “They’ll be denser near the Temple.”

Leliana blinked and dropped her head into her hands. She ran her fingers through her hair – Aedan noticed it had lengthened since he had last seen her and wondered whether it was Erik's influence or his absence after the Battle of Adamant Fortress.

“I’m taking a nap. Erik’s comment has made it clear to me that the exhaustion has become too much to ignore.”

She left the table and walked past Erik, planting a quick peck on his lips, which he gladly returned. She sauntered out of the tent and toward their own. Erik turned back toward the table.

“Well, we have confirmation that the Orlesians are in position, as are the Wardens,” Cullen informed Evelyn, “We’ll be able to push deeper into the Wilds tomorrow morning.”

“Good. Everyone, get some rest. We’ll assault in the morning,” Evelyn ordered. Erik gave a nod and exited the tent with Bull and Dorian.

“Watching the two of you together would be disgustingly adorable,” Dorian mentioned, “But then I remember that the object of your affection is one of the scariest members of the Inquisition, and I find myself feeling terrified rather than warm.”

“Eh, they’re a good match,” Bull shrugged, “Erik’s just as unnerving as the Sister is. They don’t scare each other.’

“Which is exactly why I was able to fall in love with her,” Erik mused, “I’m going to get some rest. It’s gonna be an early morning tomorrow.”

“We’re probably gonna do the same,” Iron Bull hummed, “The Inquisitor taking everybody?”

“As far as I know,” he guessed, “We’ll see when she gives the order tomorrow.”

They said their farewells and went to find rest where they could. Aedan slid into his bedroll next to Morrigan, already overtaken by the deep breath of sleep. He unlatched his armor in silence, threw off his shirt and trousers, and crawled into the roll next to her, draping his arm over her as he quickly followed her into the Fade.

Aedan adjusted his greaves and followed his wife through the clearing and toward the spot where the remainder of what the Inquisitor called her ‘Inner Circle’ stood. The Inquisitor herself stood on a massive boulder, overlooking the massive horde of Inquisition faithful that stood in formation before them. Morrigan stopped next to the Tevene mage, Dorian, who gave a small, respectful nod to the two of them before returning to check on his equipment. Commander Cullen turned rigidly but smoothly to face the army.

“Inquisition!” he barked.

“Battalion!” his subordinate officers called to their respective ranks, with their company commanders calling to their soldiers.

“Attention!” Cullen snapped. As one, the disciplined and largely battle-hardened ranks snapped to attention. Cullen about-faced and gave a tight salute and warm smile to the Inquisitor, both of which she wholeheartedly returned. She stood straighter and took a deep breath.

“My brothers and sisters, my comrades in arms,” she shouted through the clearing, “Today, we embark on another endeavor of bloodshed and violence; this is not one of nation against nation, or tribe against tribe. This is one of survival and brotherhood, of the affirmation of life and freedom. I look out amongst you today and I am proud of each and every one of you. Every nation, every creed, every race in Thedas is represented by the brothers and sisters in arms to your left and right. Mages and Templars, elves, and humans, dwarves and qunari you are not. You have taken up a call greater than yourselves, greater than any allegiance, and I cannot thank you all enough for it.

“Our cause has been felt throughout the world and our call to arms has been answered by many. Today, we have with us the greatest heroes our Age has ever known: Lady Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, has been with us for some time, and her support and her blades have been a boon at my side and all of ours as we have struggled against chaos. Yet other legends have taken to our side, as well. Many of you have heard rumors that Warden-Commander Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden and Vanquisher of the Fifth Blight, has taken up arms to fight alongside us. I am happy to say the rumors are true. He and his wife, also a veteran of the Blight, stand with my Inner Circle today.”

A hearty cheer rose from the army, and Aedan gave a small smile and a salute. He did not ask for the praise, but it was nice for the acknowledgment and the warm reception nonetheless. The Inquisitor held up her marked hand and continued.

“But do not think that their deeds lessen yours. Each of you have aided in stopping wars and rituals that threatened to tear the fabric of our world apart. First with the Mage-Templar war, and next with the Orlesian Civil War. The actions of each and every one of you turned the tides at Adamant Fortress and prevented the world’s greatest order of heroes from falling to the hands of the Blight. And through it all, you fought and struggled and continued to chip away at the veiled hand of Corypheus.

“Today, I ask for your blades and magic and arrows once more. I ask for you to fight and throw yourselves into danger so that others may never see the horrors you have faced. I do not ask this of you lightly, and I would be ashamed of myself if I merely sat by while greater men and women than myself shed their blood in my stead. I will wade into the fray alongside you, shed blood and sweat and tears along with you, and we will triumph together.”

Another cheer went up from the Inquisition. Aedan took a deep, calming breath as he felt the unnerving feeling of the calm before a battle wash over him and immediately fade away.

“Will you fight with me?” Another cheer.

“Will you crush the forces of the Elder One today?” Yet another roar.

“Will we triumph for the world today?” A third, deafening roar rang through the army, and Aedan smiled. He was never one for speeches, but he had to hand it to Evelyn Trevelyan – she could deliver a rousing speech.

The roar died down and the Inquisitor smiled. “It has been an honor to lead this holy force of thunder. Erik, would you like a word?”

Erik Andersen climbed up onto the rock, his strange weapon hanging from a sling around his neck. An equally strange belt – no doubt of otherworldly origin – wrapped his waist, holding several curved objects made of a material Aedan had never seen. Two blades also hung from his belt, well-crafted and clearly well-used. His armor, though clearly worn with battle, shone brightly in the morning sun as his red hair flowed down to his back and his close-cropped beard covered his jaw. The man made spirit made man studied the army silently, his glowing blue eyes flicking across the ranks. He could feel the unease in their soldiers. Suddenly, Erik’s brow dropped and a snarl twisted across his scarred face.

“RIP AND TEAR!” he shouted at a deafening volume. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Josephine jump at the unholy sound emanating from Erik Andersen. He repeated it over and over, never dipping in intensity or volume. The chant quickly overtook the formation, growing louder and louder as they barked it again, and again, and again. One by one, the battalions and companies broke off, still chanting the simple yet effective battle cry. Aedan let out a full laugh at the sight. The Inquisitor’s speech was good, and certainly rousing and validating for the army, but Erik’s small addition gave them what they truly needed to survive the day: bloodlust. A desire to wade into the forest and maim everything that crossed their path. He decided he liked Erik a bit more after that.

The surrogate siblings climbed down from the boulder as the Inner Circle crowded together. Erik shouldered his sister lightly.

“Good speech,” he smiled. She smirked at him.

“Good war cry,” she returned. Erik shrugged and loaded one of the strange, curved objects into his weapon.

“Rip and tear? Really?” Vivienne said, her voice dripping with disgust.

“Until it is done,” Erik nodded grimly.

“I would expect no less from you,” she drawled.

“Hope and high spirits do not win battles, Vivienne,” Aedan defended the man, “Violence does. More vicious violence than the opposing force.”

“I kinda liked it,” the blonde elf – Sera, Aedan thought she was called – shrugged.

“What was that noise emanating from you? A part of your spirit side?” Velanna asked as Aedan’s small group of Wardens approached. Erik shook his head.

“That was a death growl,” he said, “A vocal technique from my world used in the music I listened to.”

“Alright, enough banter,” Evelyn ordered, “Cullen, what’s the plan?”

“You’ll head out when we gain a foothold,” he explained, “There’s no sense in you entering the battle now. Your objective is the Temple of Mythal; the army’s is the bulk of the Red Templars. Once I’m certain we’re fighting on at least even ground, I’ll send a runner to let you know you’re clear to advance with the Inner Circle.”

“And you? Where will you be?” she asked.

“I’ll be with Captain Adaar and her Hunters,” Cullen continued, “Their expertise is not in large, open battles such as this, but they’re the most veteran unit we have. We’ll be attacking pockets of Red Templars less than a company in strength.”

“As long as you stay as safe as you can,” she reminded him.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her, “Good luck, Evelyn.”

“And you, Cullen. Maker be with you.”

And with that, the Commander was gone.

“He’s changed rather drastically since the Circle Tower,” Morrigan commented after he’d left with the Hunters.

“And since Kirkwall,” Marian nodded, “He’s healthier. Happier.”

“Happier does not always mean more grounded in a battle,” his wife said matter-of-factly. Evelyn glared at her.

“Speaking from experience?”

“Yes, actually. I was terrified for Aedan atop Fort Drakon. My worry hindered my performance.”

“Enough,” Leliana shot, “There is time to debate this _after_ we crush the forces in these woods.”

“Bye, babe,” Erik kissed the Spymaster’s brow, “Love you. Good luck.”

“And you. We’ll see each other when this is over.”

And Leliana left with her scouts, adjusting her daggers and bow as she moved. Morrigan turned toward Erik.

“No worry there?”

“Nah, she can handle herself,” he brushed off, “Come on, fuckers. We have a couple hours to get hopped up on bloodlust and anger.”

Aedan nodded and found a rock next to the dead fire pit, and the waiting game began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Holy Thuderforce by Rhapsody (now Rhapsody of Fire) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHolTqDXipc
> 
> Yes, I used Rip and Tear as a war cry. Why? Because Rip and Tear would be a fucking awesome battle cry, and you can't deny it.


	54. The Killchain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of the Arbor Wilds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all characters, locations, or dialogue from Dragon Age belong to Bioware and EA. I own Erik.
> 
> Warning: depictions of trauma care and graphic violence.
> 
> Happy New Year, y'all. Hopefully this year won't be as shitty as last year.

Evelyn could hear the battle raging throughout the woods. The roars and shrieks of behemoths and demons and screams and grunts of men and monster alike echoed throughout the forest in a dark symphony. She knew the sound well, but it still pained her that she was simply sitting by and waiting for Cullen’s runner while others fought and died in her stead; she could tell the wait was getting to others, too. Erik had taken to cleaning his rifle on a makeshift table, while Dorian was bouncing a ball of magic off a nearby tree. Rainier was whittling what appeared to be a flute, and Solas had simply taken a nap. Most others had taken to pacing, with Hawke being the notable standout there: she had created a small trail where she walked. The wait was clearly agonizing to most, and nearly everyone was either looking forward to the action or looking forward to getting the whole ordeal over with.

Yet another thing was weighing heavy on her mind: the Well of Sorrows Erik spoke of. It did not sound like it would be a happy ordeal, and if there were any other solution than to drink from its waters, she would take it; she did not relish the idea of giving herself into the service of a god she barely knew anything about, no matter how dead they supposedly were. She had no idea what it would do to her, either. Magic such as the kind Erik described had never been seen in Thedas. Perhaps the ancient elves had such power, but they were long gone, their temples in ruins and their empire dust. She shivered at the thought. When put like that, she pictured sucking the marrow from the bones of the long dead. She shoved the idea from her mind and glanced around the camp.

Emperor Gaspard had arrived nearly an hour before, fresh off the battlefield with his men and taking a short break before heading back out. The sight was a welcome one, though Evelyn hadn’t spoken to him yet; Gaspard seemed not to mind, welcoming the moment of peace between tidal waves of chaos that engulfed the Arbor Wilds. An explosion rocked the woods to the southeast, and Evelyn chuckled at Erik’s first gift when he entered Thedas.

Frantic footsteps made toward the forward camp, and Evelyn heard whoever it was shout the running password. The soldiers on guard let the runner through, and Evelyn glanced up to see the individual heading straight for her. She stood quickly and grabbed her staff.

“Inquisitor!” the runner greeted. Evelyn studied her as she returned the young woman’s salute. One of the soldiers, likely from the Hunters or another, nearby unit.

“How goes the battle?” Evelyn asked hurriedly.

"The red templars fall beneath our blades, Your Worship,” she informed her, “Commander Cullen says they're nearly finished.”

“Good. Anything else?” she asked the runner as they walked the perimeter.

“Our scouts saw Corypheus traveling toward an elven ruin to the northwest,” the runner said, ‘We can clear you a path through his armies."

Evelyn shook her head. "We can handle ourselves; do only what you must. We need enough people for a celebration when we get back to Skyhold."

The woman saluted and gave a small bow. "We will not fail you, my lady. No matter what comes. Andraste guide you, Inquisitor."

The soldier grabbed a quick drink of water and was gone, already drawing her blade and shield as she ran through to foliage and back to her unit. Morrigan approached, a small smirk on her face.

"I wonder,” the witch mused, "Is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?"

A chill went down Evelyn’s spine at the thought. "They show me respect, Morrigan. No one mistakes me for the Maker."

"True. You are far more likely to come to their aid than a Chantry fable..." the daughter of Flemeth joked grimly, "But I digress. If your scouts report accurately, I believe these ruins to be the Temple of Mythal."

"Erik mentioned that extensively,” she remembered, “What is it?"

"A place of worship out of elven legend,” Morrigan shrugged, “If Corypheus seeks it, then it is confirmation that both the eluvian and the Well of Sorrows lie within."

Another explosion rocked the woods, and a tree fell in the distance. Morrigan grunted in disgust.

"Let us hope we reach the temple _before_ the entire forest is reduced to ash," she grit through her teeth.

“Agreed,” Evelyn nodded, turning to the rest of the Inner Circle, “Gear up! You have ten minutes. If you aren’t ready, you aren’t coming.”

“Thank _fuck_ ,” Bull groaned, standing up from his log quickly after Cassandra did the same. Erik’s head snapped up at the order.

“Boogaloo?” he asked hopefully. He quickly reassembled his rifle and checked it before he got an answer, which was thankful, since Evelyn wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘boogaloo’. It was only the second time he’d used the word, and he had never explained what it meant.

She moved over to where Josephine was speaking with Gaspard, who was gathering his equipment and preparing to head back out. Gaspard gave a smile at her approach.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan! It is good to see you here. You have given us a worthy hunt,” he greeted jovially. Evelyn studied him as he spoke. His armor and shield were splattered with blood, his sword recently wiped clean. The plume on his helm was coated with a thin layer of ash and droplets of the same ruby fluid that painted his armor, and sweat was beading down his brow despite the chilled air. Still, he was grinning from ear to ear, any sign of exhaustion absent from his physical features.

“Emperor,” she greeted, “How goes the battle?”

“Glorious, my dear. Glorious,” he grinned, “The Elder One’s forces are being crushed between my forces, your own, and the Wardens. There will be little remaining once we are done here, I will make sure of it. My promise to avenge my cousin’s death shall not ring empty. Not when its fulfillment is so close within reach.”

Evelyn nodded. “We’ll win this battle, then, in Celene’s name and memory.”

“In her memory,” Gaspard echoed before glancing around, “I see you’re gathering your companions. Preparing to head out, are we?”

Evelyn nodded. “We’ve found our true objective. My team and I need to move now,” she glanced back toward the Inner Circle, “And they _aren’t moving fast enough!_ ”

“Hey, fuck you, I’ve been ready to go kill people the entire time you’ve been talking to the emperor!” Erik shot back.

“Your brother seems eager,” Gaspard laughed before his face turned stony, “Is it true he is a spirit?”

“He’s spirit and man,” Evelyn nodded, “It’s hard to explain. He was human before he came to Thedas, then lived as a spirit of will for twelve hundred years before appearing to us during the Conclave. Now he’s something else entirely.”

“I can see his heritage,” the emperor commented, “His eyes are different than last I saw him.”

“He stayed behind in the Fade to give me time to escape,” she said, “It… changed him.”

“Ah. Well, Inquisitor, I must return to my men, but I bid you good hunting,” he nodded as he donned his helmet, “May Andraste guide and watch over you, my friend.”

“And you as well.”

Evelyn turned to Josephine. She gave a graceful nod and glanced around.

“I heard the Temple has been located,” she said, “I assume you are heading there, then?”

“We are,” Evelyn confirmed, “Josephine, thank you for your work getting us here.”

“It is no trouble, Inquisitor, I –”

“Josephine,” Evelyn stopped her, “Thank you.”

She smiled, a blush creeping through her copper skin. “Thank you, Your Worship.”

Evelyn glanced around at the guards. “If the fighting gets too close, escape with these men to safety. Tell them it’s my order.”

“I… of course, Inquisitor.”

“Boss! Let’s go! We’re burning time,” Iron Bull called from the edge of the camp. Evelyn heard the unique sound of Erik racking his rifle.

“Andraste watch over you, Josephine,” Evelyn said as she left, leaving no time for a response. She made her way toward the remainder of the Inner Circle, giving Cassandra a nod as she stood beside her.

“Let’s go, then,” she ordered, a sense of dread creeping over her, “To the Temple of Mythal.”

“Finally,” Isabela laughed, “I was going to lose my mind if I watched Mary pace for five more minutes.”

“Only because you couldn’t pull me into a tent,” Hawke shot back.

“Just like old times,” Varric chuckled beneath his breath. Evelyn rolled her eyes at the spousal banter and the fifteen of them moved into the thick foliage.

* * *

“I wish I’d have brought Rabbit,” Aedan murmured next to Erik. Erik turned toward The Warden and raised an eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked.

“Kieran didn’t want the whole family to leave him behind,” the man shrugged, “Morrigan was coming, and I had to come to make sure she was going to be alright. That left Rabbit.”

“He probably wasn’t too happy about that,” Erik chuckled, “You running off to battle again and leaving him behind.”

“He was alright about it,” Aedan dismissed, “That dog loves my boy more than anything in the world. I might be his master, but Kieran is his best friend.”

Erik hummed. He knew what that was like. His family had adopted a dog when he was nine. Bacon was already fully grown when they’d got him, but he lived until right before his mother died. He did everything with that dog, right down to eating and sleeping with him. He sighed and pushed the thought out of his mind, lest he drown himself in nostalgia; it was unhealthy to do that when one could take contact at any given moment.

And take contact they did. To their left and atop a hill, an arrow shot overhead, followed by magic and more arrows. He cursed. A perfect near ambush.

“Get down!” Sera shouted over the shouts in the tree line. Erik and Aedan ducked behind adjacent trees, both of them readying their weapons. Aedan glanced at Erik as another arrow shot between their trees.

“This what combat was like on Earth?” he asked as he drew Vigilance and Starfang. Erik grinned.

“This is a near ambush,” he laughed, “And we’re using the wrong tactic.”

“What’s the right tactic, then?” Aedan asked, flabbergasted. Erik readied his rifle and let out a laugh.

“Turn and burn,” he shouted, leaning out of cover and taking shots at every moving object he could see. An audible _thud_ sounded, followed by a Venatori mage tumbling down the hill and toward the road.

“Bound up! Overwhelm them and cover your buddies as they move!” he shouted back toward the rest of the Inner Circle. He glanced toward Aedan, and despite the shocked look the man had at what Erik’s rifle had just done, he nodded his assent. As one, they sprung from cover and sprinted up the hill. Crossbow bolts, arrows and magic flew at their enemy from both their sides as they moved up the hill, and after five seconds, the two of them ducked behind a boulder. Erik propped up on a rock and began firing through the foliage. He heard the lumbering footfalls of Bull and the cursing of Varric behind them as he returned fire, and soon, the largest man and smallest man in the Inner Circle were about fifteen feet to their left.

“Varric, cover us!” Erik shouted. The dwarf gave a nod and found a stable position to fire from, and they moved up the hill further. Again, they dropped down and Erik opened fire at their attackers. Morrigan and Evelyn slid behind cover to their right side. Erik nodded to his sister and the witch before he and Aedan threw themselves over the boulder and up the final stretch of the hill. They burst through the brush to find half a dozen stunned Venatori and three demons in a trench. Erik grinned wildly and began firing at everything in front of him as Aedan dropped down into the trench and drove his swords into a pair of demons. Erik put a round in the third shade’s head as Aedan ducked beneath a sword and swung cleanly through the head of the final Venatori. The blood and demonic ichor began to pool in the small cut-out, and Erik hopped down into the trench, dropped his magazine, and reloaded. He moved with Aedan to check the Venatori, and once they were confirmed dead, Erik grabbed his expended magazine and climbed back out of the trench.

“Clear!” he called down the hill toward the rest of the Inner Circle. Aedan hoisted himself out of the fighting position and gaped at Erik.

“ _T_ _hat’s_ what that thing does?” he asked in shock.

“Yep.”

“And every soldier in your world used one of those?”

“Yep. Some were way, way bigger.”

“How much bigger?”

“ _M_ _uch_ bigger,” Erik said as they trotted town the hill, “A .50 BMG could rupture your organs and tear off your limbs if it even came close.”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Aedan breathed before pausing, “Do you know how to make one?”

No one had actually asked him that before. “Uh… I know how it works, and I’m an okay artist, so I could draw schematics. Dagna could probably make one, but the machining required is really precise–”

“Can you ask her?” he asked as his wife fell in beside them and they moved on.

“Ask her yourself,” Erik shrugged, “You’re Inquisition now, Aedan, just as much as I. She’d probably view it as a challenge.”

“Good,” Aedan grinned, “Because I want one.”

“Men and their toys,” Morrigan groaned.

“You only thing it’s stupid because you can shoot lightning from your hands. This thing can fucking throw metal,” Aedan sputtered.

“I’ll have to teach you how to use one,” Erik reminded him as they kept trotting along the path toward the Temple.

“I don’t care. We survive this, I want one.”

Erik shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do, then.”

They continued through the woods.

It was some time before they took contact again. Erik had volunteered to take point, since his reaction time upon entering combat seemed to be the fastest and his rifle had the longest range of any weapon amongst the Inner Circle, even considering the mages. They moved in several wedges, nearly thirty feet between them. Erik silently scanned the woods as they traversed the underbrush as rapidly as they could without exhausting themselves. He took deep, even breaths through his mouth to prevent any excess noise that may give away their position. He thought he saw movement in the woods to their right and held up his hand to call a halt, then signaled to take a knee. He stared unblinking at the space he saw the movement as Evelyn skirted over to him.

“What do you have?” she asked in a low whisper.

“Movement,” he said, “Probably forty meters into the woodline over there. Could have been an animal, but I want to make sure.”

Evelyn nodded and twisted in place, signaling the rest of the team to take cover off the road. The Inner Circle silently complied as Erik and Evelyn studied the trees ahead of them. There was silence for a moment, then two.

And then Hawke sneezed. Hawke did not sneeze quietly.

Erik clenched his jaw in frustration, and two seconds later, a two-platoon-sized element of Red Templars came bursting out of the woods, screaming an unholy cry with their sickly weapons raised to strike. Erik put two shots into the high A zone of a Shadow that came rushing toward him and twisted around to kill a knight with a single round to the head. Both dropped like ragdolls, the Shadow staining a wide radius around it with its tainted, black-red blood. A Knight-Captain tripped over its fallen knight comrade, allowing Bull to cleave him in half with an uppercut from his gargantuan axe. Hawke immediately jumped into the fray next to Isabela, both slashing and parrying as they darted in and out of the platoon of Red Templars. Erik took aim at a Horror, only for it to freeze solid from Solas and then shatter from a bolt delivered by Varric. Erik spun around to cover Evelyn, only to find her holding her own better than he expected. She chained a lightning spell through three knights, and with a malicious grin, she swung her staff blade through the necks of all three, Fade-stepping away the instant their blood began to spray from the wound. The three knights went down with labored gurgles. Deciding his sister was going to be fine, he turned back around to find another target to kill. What he saw stopped him where he was. Aedan had acted, and it was the most glorious display of martial skill he had ever seen. He moved like water and flowed like air, his swings full of power that his frame didn’t telegraph, each and every stroke a work of bloody art and seemingly effortless. Starfang swung clean through the sword arm of a knight before Vigilance came around to add insult to injury, cleaving the monster from hip to collar. Without checking his work, he skirted around the pieces of his enemy in a twirl and beheaded a Shadow, then a second before kicking one of them into a Knight-Captain for Morrigan to immolate and another into a horror for Dorian to electrocute and Sera to finish off with a barbed arrow. Erik had just seen him take out five Red Templars in less than two seconds, and he was not slowing down. A knight gripped him by the shoulder, and Aedan plunged Vigilance into the dirt to grip the man turned monster’s forearm. A horrid crunching sound was heard, and the knight screamed in agony and shock before The Warden swung him tonto a tree, his head crumpling into his chest cavity with a _schlurp_. He took up Vigilance from the soil and threw it like a lance into the chest of another horror, springboarding off his chest and yanking the dragonbone sword out of the wound even as his off-hand came around to cleave the commander of the unit’s helm in two.

Erik let out a laugh of shock at the unbelievable display of prowess and then stopped, glancing around. Everyone was accounted for. Rainier was shielding Morrigan and Sera from the Red Templars while taking swings where they could. Isabela and Marian were still using their hit-and-run tactics against their foe, as was Cole at their side, disappearing and reappearing in a blur. Varric stood beside Dorian and Solas, all three with snarls on their faces. Evelyn was right behind him; he could hear her grunts as she burned and killed.

But where was Vivienne?

A roar echoed throughout the woods. All heads turned as a Behemoth lumbered through the trees, crushing the trunks as it walked. Vivienne was parrying its slow but powerful blows with her spirit blade, the knight-enchanter clearly on the defensive. She blocked a strike from one of its arms and stumbled over a root even as Hawke, Cassandra, and Thom sprinted for the monstrous being. But its clubbed appendage was coming around, and they were all too far to stop it. Erik took a futile shot with his rifle, the round lodging into its thick red lyrium armor but not truly doing significant damage.

The Behemoth’s club struck Vivienne in the side with the force of a truck, and she was thrown into a tree. The spirit blade in her hand dissipated as she struck her head, and she fell face first into the underbrush. Erik only glanced at her fall briefly before opening fire at every point he knew the Behemoth was weak; its ankles, its knees, its neck, and its underarm. Rainier and Cassandra slashed at its calves while Hawke slid on her knees and slashed at its inner thighs. Dorian and Solas both Fade-stepped a sizable distance across the woods toward it, but still they were too far.

Erik heard a labored grunt, and he spun his head to see Bull launching Aedan through the air, the smaller man’s foot springing off the qunari’s interlaced palms. He drove his knee forward and drew back Starfang, a horrible snarl on his face, and despite the grim situation, Erik wished he had a camera. The Hero of Ferelden slammed his driving knee into its collar as Starfang was thrust through its helm and skull. Aedan began to drop, and as he did, he used his downward momentum to swing Vigilance into the Behemoth’s upper chest. The monster crumpled backwards and hit the ground, its weight shaking the forest floor.

Erik glanced around and confirmed the Behemoth was the last of the Red Templars, then sprinted with adrenaline-filled haste toward the spot Vivienne fell. He dropped next to her as Evelyn came up next to him, Solas already at the knight-enchanter’s side. Erik turned the mage around to examine her wounds. Her breathing was labored, her head already bruised.

“Solas?” Evelyn asked hopefully. The elf shook his head.

“My mana is drained. I will be of no aid here,” he said sorrowfully.

“As is mine,” Dorian huffed worriedly. Erik turned his head toward Evelyn.

“I’m exhausted, too. Maybe Morrigan?”

“My healing abilities are limited to minor wounds,” Morrigan shook her head, “This appears to be far beyond my capabilities to heal.”

Erik clicked his teeth and reached around to his IFAK on the back of his belt. It was technically meant for himself, but he had already used the standard gauze on Chancellor Roderick despite its futility in the end. He did a quick visual blood sweep, seeing nothing. He opened Vivienne’s eyes with his fingers, noticing her pupils were different sizes. Concussed, likely very badly. Erik thrust his hand up into the air without taking his eyes off the woman.

“Knife,” he demanded. Someone placed one into his hand, already clean. Erik swiftly cut at the unconscious knight-enchanter’s coverings before going in for a physical blood sweep. He started with a sweep behind her head, sighing with relief when he felt no cerebrospinal fluid from her ears or nose. She wasn’t raccooning, either, which was a good sign. He swept each appendage, finding a cavity on her shoulder. He grabbed the hemostatic gauze and packed the wound, making a ball and then moving in a crisscrossing motion in the wound. Once it was done, he wrapped it with a bandage and secured it around her far shoulder.

“Talk to her,” he ordered as he worked.

“Vivienne?” Evelyn started saying, her voice calm despite the situation, “You took a hit from a Behemoth. You got hurt, but you’re going to be fine. The mages are all out of mana, but Erik is patching you up. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Can’t stop Madame de Fer that easily,” Bull rumbled from where he’d taken a knee by her head. Erik continued to work as they spoke, silently glad they weren’t freaking out. He checked her breathing, and noting it was labored, he grabbed the NPA and measured it out from the tip of her nose to her ear before lubricating it and pushing it into her right nostril until only the base was sticking out. He taped it to her nose, ensuring the airway wasn’t obstructed. Erik moved on to grabbing her ribcage, dropping his head low near her neck to check the rise and fall of her chest. He cursed mentally at what he saw; as he suspected, the Behemoth had punctured into her right lung’s cavity, and if he didn’t act, her lung would collapse from the build-up of air and tension pneumothorax. He stretched her skin out and found the wound: a tiny thing, just smaller than a .22 rifle’s bullet.

“Nine line, _now!_ ” he barked at his friends before remembering where he was, “Oh… right. Never mind.”

He waited for the rattling exhale and placed the chest seal on, taping it on all sides to ensure no air leaked in. Erik moved for the NCD in his kit, taking the needle from its casing. He took a deep breath; he’d always hated this part. He found the space between the second and third ribs and drove the needle through Vivienne’s skin, perpendicular to her rib cage. He kept pushing until he heard a pop followed by a hiss. Sighing in relief with Vivienne’s unconscious sigh of her breathing returning to a more normal state, he pulled the needle out and left the plastic piece in, taping its sides and the needle itself to her skin. He checked for an exit wound and found none, so he did one final sweep, ensuring he didn’t forget anything before hastily scribbling a list of her injuries on his TC3 card and stretching the band around her wrist, checking her pulse as he did so; he found it strong despite the injuries Vivienne sustained. It should have been filled out as he was working, but he didn’t teach anyone tactical field care, so no one knew what to write. Erik sat back against the tree behind him and let out a stressed breath.

“She’s stable,” he sighed, “We need to get her back to the forward camp, though. Like, now. Two or three should suffice; one to carry, one or two to pull security. Switch out as necessary.”

“I got her,” Bull volunteered, gingerly lifting the mage across his shoulders, ‘Need two to come with me. I can’t swing at people with a casualty on my back.”

“I’m with you,” Sera offered, “Didn’t want to go to the creepy ruin, anyways.”

“I’ll help, too,” Cole said, “Erik bought her some time, but she needs a surgeon. Or a mage.”

“Or both,” Evelyn murmured under her breath before looking up, “Go, then. We’ll meet up when this is over.”

Bull nodded, and the three-person casevac team trotted back the way they came. Erik wiped the sweat off his brow, unable to watch them go. He gazed off into the woods, the memories of doing that to too many of his friends resurfacing. One more, now, despite his differences with the woman.

“Hey,” Evelyn said softly, “You did good. She’s going to be okay because of you.”

“Yeah,” Erik muttered, now staring at the blood on his palms. Thom wordlessly handed him his canteen, and Erik washed his hands off before taking a small swig to wet his dry mouth.

“How did you know what injuries to look for?” Cassandra asked curiously. Erik shook his head as he moved to pack up the remainder of his IFAK.

“I didn’t,” he said, “It’s a procedure that you go through when you take a casualty. Five steps on Earth, but here, I had to make it a bit simpler. Technology isn’t all there, yet.”

“Well, whatever it was, it was damned impressive,” Hawke admitted, “Could come in handy when we don’t have a mage to wave their magic fingers around.”

“I have no idea how I forgot to teach it,” he babbled, “Or how I didn’t commission Dagna to try and replicate a lot of the stuff I used. I could have taught it to the Inquisition. It could have helped. It could have saved a lot of lives. I don’t know–”

“Erik,” Evelyn stopped him, “You’ve done more than enough to save our people’s lives.”

“But I could have saved _more_ ,” he argued.

“And you can save a lot more in the future,” Aedan said, “That was unbelievable. That was… under two minutes, I think. I’ve never seen anything like that. Teach it to the Inquisition, and that technique could be spread to the rest of the armies in Thedas.”

Erik nodded. “I should be saying the same to you,” he laughed hollowly, “I’ve never seen anyone move like that in combat.”

“I’ve had enough practice,” Aedan shrugged, “Just as you’ve had practice with that care you just gave, and practice with your weapon. It’s all just practice.”

“And superhuman strength,” Morrigan and Isabela muttered at the same time. Aedan shrugged a shoulder.

“That too. But mostly practice.”

“Come on,” Evelyn stood and offered a hand to Erik, “Let’s go stop Corypheus. I’d argue that’ll more than meet your quota of saving people.”

Erik gave a small smile and grabbed her hand, springing to his feet. She was right. He could still help more people than that. He just had to push forward.

* * *

Evelyn led from there. She could tell Erik needed a minute to decompress after what he’d just done. They moved further into the Arbor Wilds, following a clear trail that led… somewhere. Hopefully the Temple of Mythal. They moved more swiftly, trying to make up for lost time after Vivienne’s debilitating injuries. They were down four, but there were still enough of them to take on the small groups they ran across as they trotted forward. Eventually, they came upon an ancient wall overgrown with vines and roots. Several of the Inquisition’s scouts were perched atop, Leliana among them as they rained arrows into the area below. She recognized Aedan’s Wardens fighting with unrestrained fury with what appeared to be Orlesian Wardens against… Orlesian Wardens. Mages, to be precise. She supposed some were still enthralled to the Elder One.

"If they are forced to obey him, death will be a blessing," Cassandra declared resolutely as she adjusted her grip on her blade.

“Doesn’t make it suck any less,” Aedan sighed. Erik darted off toward the wall and scrambled up its face, coming to a stop next to his lover and sighting in his first target. Evelyn let him, trusting his aim as she flung her first spell at the Warden mages. The skirmish was swift, the mages’ lack of heavy support crushing any hope of success against the Inner Circle’s ability. The fight finally ended when the dwarf – she thought his name was Oghren – dropped his warhammer’s head into the skull of the last Warden mage.

“Well, that was shitty,” he burped, “Never thought I’d be forced to kill my brethren.”

“Nor did I,” the other dwarf, Sigrun, spat, “What a waste.”

“They were enthralled to Corypheus,” Howe sighed, “The Taint made them susceptible to enslavement by him.”

“I wish we could have got the cure to them before it was too late,” the Dalish Warden grunted.

Evelyn turned toward Aedan. “Are you and your Wardens going to be safe against him?”

“We’ll be fine,” Aedan brushed off, “We have our immunity and our abilities, but the Taint no longer flows in our veins. Corypheus can do nothing to us.”

“Good to see you, Aedan,” Howe said as he sidled up next to the Dalish mage. The Wardens clasped hands with a smile despite the situation.

“And you, Nathaniel,” the Warden-Commander smiled, “Hope I don’t have to give you up to the Orlesians.”

“And leave this one?” Howe jerked his head toward the Dalish woman, “I think I’m just fine staying Constable.”

“Good. Hate to see a friend go,” Aedan paused, “Keep yourself and the Orlesians away from Corypheus, if you can. We still need to get you the cure.”

Nathaniel’s eyes widened. “So it’s true? You found it?”

“We did,” Aedan nodded, ‘But that can come later. First, this battle.”

“Right. Maker be with you, Warden-Commander.”

“Call me that again, and I’ll kick you in the nuts,” Aedan warned with a grin and a slap on Howe’s armored shoulder. Evelyn glanced back toward where Leliana was perched. She and Erik were having a conversation, which ended in a quick kiss before Erik dropped down and returned to the group. Leliana gave a wave that Evelyn returned.

“Just talked to Leliana. The elves are awake,” he informed her, “If an elf shoots at you, kill them.”

“Understood,” Evelyn nodded, taking note of the way Solas’s eyes widened briefly. She made a mental note and jerked her head.

“Let’s keep moving,” she ordered.

They came upon a wide stream, Cullen standing among Adaar’s Hunter company. They were surrounded by Red Templars and demons, and the battle was not looking good for her lover or her forces. A noise caught in her throat before she forced it down and turned around.

“Let’s go! They need help,” she shouted. The Inner Circle sprinted into the fray, immediately hacking and slashing their way through the Red Templars and linking up with the forces in the center of the creek. None seemed injured, but they were all clearly exhausted, having apparently fought a long, bloody fight, judging by the amount of red in the water. Evelyn frantically slashed and swung her way through the enemy, never giving them an inch as her mind faded into a foggy haze.

It took time. More time than she would have hoped, but through the fog, she noted the enemy numbers dwindling. She saw a Red Templar head fly by out of the corner of her eye – courtesy of Cassandra – and then there was silence. Evelyn trotted up to Cullen.

“Are you injured?” she asked frantically, “Did they–”

“We’re fine,” he reassured her, taking her hand in a firm grip, “Just tired. It has been a long battle.”

“We’re the last checkpoint,” Herah breathed through labored pants, “The Temple is just up–”

Shrieks and growls came from the woods in all directions. Evelyn spun around in place to see another wave demons and Red Templars heading for them. Almost half as many as the first wave, perhaps fifty or so. But everyone was exhausted. She didn’t know if they would be able to handle them all.

“We’re surrounded,” Aedan called. Morrigan rolled her eyes by his side.

“Excellent observation, my love,” she drawled, “Can you count how many moons there are, as well?”

“Cluster!” Cullen yelled, “I don’t want a single hole in this wall. Mages in the center, warriors on the outside.” Everyone quickly moved to follow his order, bunching as tightly together as they could, the warriors raising shields.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Erik brushed off, reloading his rifle. The first bit of the deadly circle was just under three hundred meters out.

“Erik, what in the Void are you talking about?” Dorian sputtered, “We’re surrounded.”

“Good. Now I can shoot wherever I want,” he said. He took a step outside the compact circle they’d made, the circle closing soon after. Evelyn stared wide-eyed at her brother. Was he trying to get himself killed? Did he hit his head in the last skirmish? Was he just stupid?

He began to mutter something, slowly turning in place as he took in the enemies approaching. They moved even closer, but Erik kept muttering, studying them slightly. He turned toward them, glancing at the enemy behind where Evelyn stood, and she read her brother’s lips as he finished murmuring.

“And those that tasted the bite of his sword named him… the Doom Slayer.”

Erik brought his rifle to his shoulder and immediately began firing, faster than Evelyn had ever seen him shoot. Each round brought down another Red Templar or demon, and as soon as one piece of the ring was gone, he swung around and found the next nearest enemy and shot another burst of rounds at them. Shrieks and cries rang throughout the clearing, fresh blood flowing into the water as Erik unleashed death upon their enemies. A brief respite was granted when he ran out of rounds – a respite that ended as soon as it began when he reloaded at blisteringly fast speeds. And then Erik grew even more bold and even more violent. He began deliberately aiming for the spots that would produce the most blood, still not slowing down in the slightest. A terror demon sunk into the ground and appeared beneath his feet, but Erik merely sprung into the air with it, grabbing on to one of its myriad of horns and riding it upward. He broke off the horn he was holding and wrapped his legs around the terror’s neck, driving it deep into its eye with a grunt. The demon shrieked in pain as its own horn burst out the back of its skill, and it collapsed to the water. Erik quickly rose from his knees and stomped its head flat, firing on their enemy as he did so. His unholy fury didn’t stop, either, and he ran _closer_ to the half circle he had left alive, which was now seemingly hesitant to move closer.

“Come on, fuckers! Fight me! Don’t you wanna kill me?” he roared, “I’ll feed you your own fucking heart!”

A Red Templar got too close, and Erik swung his longsword free of its sheath. He cleaved clean through the Templar’s thigh, and the corrupted man went down with a scream. Her brother then slashed off the Templar’s arm and cut halfway through his ribcage before drawing the blade free and beheading the man. Erik sheathed the sword and re-shouldered his rifle, firing once again on the demons and Red Templars. Only eight were left by the time his next burst of bullets met the enemy, and none seemed eager to greet Erik in the stream. None but a pride demon, who stomped into the creek and let out a bellow that made ripples in the shallow water. Erik aimed low and shot seven rounds into the pride demon’s right knee, causing it to burst, viscera hanging from its thigh as ground muscle dripped into the water. The demon dropped to a knee and let out something she never thought she’d hear from a demon: a whimper. Erik sprinted to the pride demon and shoved his hand into its mouth before firmly grasping the demon’s jaw.

Then he pulled. And pulled. And pulled. And the jaw came free with a sickening sound. A mage threw up next to her, and it was all Evelyn could do to keep the contents of her own stomach within her body. The pride demon fell to the water with a gurgle as its arms flailed at its mouth, trying in desperate futility to stop the ichor gushing from its face and neck. Erik threw the jaw at a shade that had wandered too close and broke a horn off the dying pride demon’s head. He moved to the downed shade and stomped its head in before glancing up at the next nearest foe. He sprinted toward the Shadow, which shrieked in shock and began running _away_ from Erik. He leapt through the air and tackled the Red Templar to its stomach before viciously tearing at its back and neck with the broken horn, tainted blood spewing everywhere. The last five began to flee in a panic, and the archers behind the warriors easily picked them off.

There was silence in the woods once more. The water in the creek was no longer a clear blue, but red. Erik’s front was covered in green, red, and purple blood, and more than one person had vomited at the sight of the carnage. There were dead everywhere, some of the Red Templars still twitching after death and the demons dissolving into the air. Evelyn gaped in horror as it dawned upon her what he had just done.

Erik leaned back on his knees and let out a scream full of energy. Birds darted out of their perches at the sound, and more than one animal scurried away in the underbrush.

“Sweet Maker above,” Cullen breathed in shock, paler than snow. The tightly packed circle slowly dissipated, and the Inner Circle tentatively approached their comrade. Evelyn led the pack, though still moving slowly as she crept toward Erik. His chest heaved beneath his armor, his hand still tightly gripped around the horn. She crept closer still, the bloody water splashing around her ankles.

“Champion,” Cassandra spoke in a shaky voice. Erik didn’t respond. Evelyn took a breath.

“Erik.”

He spun around, his eyes wild and his brow furled. His eyes met hers, and Evelyn froze, slightly afraid of her brother for the first time. He grinned, and his teeth were stained with red.

“I did it,” he laughed.

“What did you do?” she asked in a tentative voice.

“I’m finally as badass as the Doom Slayer,” he said in a giddy, childlike voice.

* * *

Aedan wasn’t sure what to make of Erik’s little stunt. Sure, it was amazing, but it was also stupid. Then he thought about all the unbelievably stupid things he had done in his life, counting them off in his head. Willingly joining the Grey Wardens when Duncan made the ultimatum at Castle Cousland, drinking the blood of the dragon he’d killed near the Temple of Sacred Ashes, fighting Flemeth, having a dark sex ritual with a hot swamp witch, making a deal with one of the Magisters that started the Blight, running off after the aforementioned hot swamp witch, _marrying_ said swamp witch, joining the Inquisition…

Aedan shook his head and decided he didn’t care how stupid Erik’s stunt was. It was still great to watch. Most of the Inner Circle didn’t seem to feel the same way, however. Thom Rainier and Varric in particular seemed disgusted, though more at the needless carnage he’d spread than the killing at the creek.

“Seriously, how did you do that?” Marian asked giddily. Erik merely shrugged.

“I just reacted and aimed for the spots that seemed like they would hurt the most,” he said calmly, the blood slowly being cleared of his face through the sweat he produced.

“That was extremely horrifying to watch, Erik,” Solas said, “Please, don’t ever do that again.”

“You sure you aren’t a spirit of war, offworlder?” Varric asked nervously.

“Nope. Definitely will,” he responded, “Though probably battlefield will. I seem to be most attracted toward the will of warriors and soldiers.”

“Makes sense, in a way,” Dorian shrugged, “You’re a career soldier. Part of the most elite warriors your birth nation had to offer, according to you.”

Aedan hummed. Morrigan had told him what she knew about him, but seeing him in combat, it made sense. Erik was certainly a force of nature on the battlefield, as much as he was or Hawke was or the Inquisitor was. And seeing how comfortable most of the Inner Circle was around him, especially after _that_ showing, made him feel like he could trust the odd man more.

He was still harboring secrets, though, and he had no doubt they were connected to the ruin they saw in the distance. It was a beautiful thing, even in decay, sitting in the center of a round lake, with waterfalls surrounding it and an intact bridge connecting it to the mainland. Large towers rose into the sky, a testament of a bygone marvel that had since crumbled to dust. The sight was gorgeous, to be sure, and sparked a sense of youthful awe he hadn’t felt since the first time he’d seen an eluvian.

That feeling was only marred by the Darkspawn Magister directly below them. The group all dove for cover, peering down the face of the slope toward the monster as he towered above a handful of abnormally tall elves in opulent, golden armor, all of whom stood before the bridge as if guarding it. A man stood next to him, covered from neck to toe in armor made of red lyrium. His skin was pale and sickly, his black hair disheveled and patchy as he strode alongside his master. Aedan could only conclude the man in the blighted armor was Samson.

" _Na melana sur, banallen_ ," one of the elves shouted in the most perfect elvish Aedan had ever heard.

Samson let out an arrogant laugh and turned to Corypheus. "They still think to fight us, Master."

" **These are but remnants** ,” Corypheus’s deep voice rumbled, **“They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.** "

From either side of him, Evelyn and Morrigan made to move toward the Magister. Aedan caught both their shoulders and shook his head.

" **Be honored. Witness death at the hands of a new god** ," the Elder One bragged. He slew two of the elves, with the remaining three fleeing across the threshold of the bridge. Corypheus kept advancing; the instant he crossed the two spires on either side of the walkway, he froze. Shimmering magic sprung up from the spires, trapping him where he stood. The Magister twisted and grunted, the grunt quickly turning to a scream of pain. His back arched as his body glowed brighter and brighter, and then, suddenly, he was gone.

“Run,” Erik barked, springing from his hiding spot and sprinting down the slope. The others didn’t dare question him – it was clear he knew something they all didn’t. But Aedan knew. He knew the moment he ran past the dying Warden in the grass at the bottom of the slope that Corypheus would soon rise.

And rise he did. A quarter of the way down the bridge, the dying Warden began to jerk violently. He twisted and turned and screamed, the scream becoming deeper as black bile poured from his mouth and his bones cracked and stretched, red lyrium growing from his skin. The skin darkened, and the half-formed Magister began crawling toward them. Several of the Inner Circle gaped at the site.

“Don’t look, just run!” Evelyn shouted. As soon as she did, a shriek echoed over the treetops. Aedan glanced back to see a sight he never thought he’d see again. An Archdemon came speeding toward them. But it wasn’t quite an Archdemon. It was nowhere near as big as Urthemiel was, and it was missing the telltale fangs and deadly quills. Its breathing was labored with a rattling noise, and its roar was wrong. Red lyrium grew from its neck, and a single, hateful, red eye peered toward them.

“Why does it only have one eye?” Aedan panted as they sprinted toward the temple’s massive gates.

“I shot the other one out during Haven,” Erik responded, equally out of breath.

The group kept sprinting, Aedan’s thoughts mirroring Marian’s audible ‘shit, shit, shit, shit’ as they threw themselves toward their only salvation. Still, the red lyrium dragon inched closer and closer, the sound of its tattered wings rippling through the wind growing louder and louder as it approached.

They crossed the threshold of the doors just as the dragon began taking a breath, and Aedan swung himself around one of the two halves of the gate. He found himself next to Cassandra, and together they pushed with all the force they could muster. Erik and Rainier were on the other side, equally laboring to seal off the dragon preparing to spew their death. The great gates creaked and heaved as they moved closer and closer to closing. Just inches apart, licks of red flame flashed through the thin crack between the two gates, and the door suddenly became blisteringly hot. Still, the four of them pushed on.

They closed shut, and with a flash of golden light, they were sealed. They heard the dragon turn on a pin and fly away from the gates, seemingly repelled by whatever magic the temple still held. Aedan collapsed against the door next to Cassandra and let out a breath of relief. He glanced around briefly at the ruin.

They were within the Temple of Mythal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for The Killchain by Bolt Thrower -https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJ_R1gnOpSg
> 
> Everything Erik did to treat Vivienne in the chapter is real. I have done it. In case you don't know what they are, here are the acronyms & terms used and a short definition of each:
> 
> IFAK: Individual First Aid Kit  
> Hemostatic Gauze: gauze with hemostatic agent. Helps clot blood faster, typically used in wounds not on extremities or venous wounds.  
> NPA: Nasopharyngeal Airway: A lubed tube you shove in someone's nostril so they can breathe without obstruction. Feels weird when you got one in.  
> Chest Seal: Exactly what it sounds like. Sticky seal you put on someone's chest over a puncture wound to prevent the lung cavity from filling with more air.  
> NCD: Needle Chest Decompression. A needle you put in between someone's ribs that bleeds air out from the lung cavity, preventing the lung from collapsing. Once it's in, take the needle out and leave the plastic bit behind.  
> Nine line: The system used to send medevac requests through radio. It consists of mine lines of information, detailing location, how many enemy are in the area, types of casualties, equipment needed, and such.  
> TC3: Tactical Combat Casualty Care. Also known as CLS/Combat Lifesaver. What every US servicemember has to go through and get re-certified in regularly. A TC3 card has a diagram of a human body on it, and you write out the injuries, their locations, and what you did to the patient at what time so higher care can treat them properly.
> 
> The entire process Erik went through should take under two minutes, and there's typically multiple people working on a casualty at a time, doing different stages of TC3 to save time. If you want to know more (it's a good skill to have, much of the information can apply to things other than gunshot wounds), all of it is online and public domain.


	55. Det Som En Gang Var

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Erik get into a fight. Erik talks to Solas. Evelyn drinks elf tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took longer than expected. Writer's block and physical agony suck.
> 
> Any characters, dialogue, or locations from Dragon Age are property of Bioware and EA. The music is the sole property of the artist alone. I own the character of Erik Andersen.
> 
> Also, three hundred thousand words. Nifty.

Evelyn dropped her hands to her knees, her chest heaving from the five-hundred-meter sprint and the unbelievable adrenaline rush of running for her life from a dragon. Her mouth tasted of iron, the tip and bare underside of her tongue tingling with the feeling and her upper chest aching with the cold air that rushed into her body. None of the others were faring any better, either. All were exhausted before the dash for the temple, and none looked better after the near-death situation. Slowly, her senses came back to her and the tunnel vision dissipated, and she stood straighter and placed her hands on her hips to expand her abdomen.

Marian let out a mad giggle next to her. Aedan and Erik soon followed, both flopped back on the doors next to Cassandra and Rainier, filthy sweat dripping from their hair and down their necks.

“That was close,” Aedan laughed through breathy giggles.

“Close? We almost got roasted,” Marian laughed, “Sweet Maker, I don’t think I’ve ever ran that fast in my life, even when my mother was throwing suitors at me like a dart board.”

“I’m pretty sure my asshole went inside my body,” Erik chortled, “I think it got so tight you couldn’t fit a horsehair in there if you tried.”

“I think mine’s gone,” Aedan howled with laughter. The mad banter caused Evelyn to giggle, and that was the last bit that was needed to break the dam. The rest of the Inner Circle let out their own little relaxing breaths of laughter as they slumped against the ancient stone of the temple. The laughter grew steadier, bit by bit, until it dissipated with a lone giggle here and there. Evelyn wiped her brow free of sweat and glanced up at the arch above her.

“Okay,” she sighed, “Now that we got _that_ out of the way… Erik, what the fuck?”

Her brother blinked. “What did I do now?”

“Why did Corypheus just regenerate?”

A grimace grew across Erik’s face. He glanced at Aedan, who stared back wide-eyed.

“You didn’t tell her?!” he asked in shock.

“Hey, I forgot!”

“That’s quite the important thing to forget, my friend.”

“I have a lot on my plate, alright?” Erik defended, “It wouldn’t have mattered anyways. What were we going to do about it?”

“Care to open up your little club of two and let us in?” Marian deadpanned, masking her frustration with humor. The Warden and the offworlder glanced at each other.

“You tell her. You probably know more than I,” Aedan suggested. Erik nodded and shakily rose to his feet, pulling Rainier up as he did so. Cassandra did the same on the opposite side of them, and once all four were hoisted upright, Erik cleared his throat.

“Right. So, here’s the thing,” Erik said nervously, “Corypheus is immortal.”

“He’s _what?!_ ” she barked.

“He can’t die,” Erik explained, “At least, not the way he is right now. He has a similar property to an Archdemon. When an Archdemon dies–”

“You’re about to cross a line you don’t want to cross, Erik,” Aedan warned, approaching predatorily.

“We already know,” Varric said calmly, “How a Warden needs to be the one to kill an Archdemon, or it won’t die.”

Aedan spun back toward Erik, his fists clenched. “You told them?”

“It was that or likely have Evelyn exile the Grey Wardens of Orlais,” he crossed his arms, “And that’s not really the best outcome.”

“Still, you could have–”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Erik snapped, “Secrets like that are why the Grey Wardens are losing much of their influence.”

“Secrets? Really?” Aedan got dangerously close to Erik, “Secrets like the ones you’re keeping from the Inquisition? From the woman you like to call a sister? From my best friend that you’re fucking?”

“Hey!” Evelyn boomed just as Erik’s visage turned to a snarl, “Enough! We have an objective to complete, and I will not have two of my most lethal companions at each other’s throats when we don’t even know how the rest of the day will go. Don’t say a fucking word, Erik, it was a generalization.”

Her brother deflated at the last bit, and she continued.

“Aedan, Erik did what he thought was best for the Inquisition at the time. Everything he reveals and withholds, he has stated was for our own safety rather than a random pattern.”

Morrigan approached her husband as he spoke and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She murmured something imperceptible into his ear, and Aedan grew still as a board, then relaxed. He dropped his head and ran his fingers through his locks. A thousand thoughts rushed through Evelyn’s head at once and she twisted toward her brother.

“And _you_ , Erik,” she shouted, “Are the most opaque, sketchy, and stubborn man I have ever met. We may be siblings, but that does _not_ mean that I’ve always agreed with your decisions to reveal some things and withhold others. Doing so nearly got you killed in the Fade, and your revelations are often so dangerous that you’ve had to threaten our friends with death to keep them quiet. You are not the Inquisitor. _You_ do not have final say. I fucking am, and I have the fucking final say. I decide when you reveal your secrets and what you withhold, not the other way around. You’ve made decisions on your own that I did not and still do not agree with. I didn’t agree with your stealing of the Spirit of Fire. I did not agree with your withholding of the events of Adamant. As much as you’ve been an immeasurable help, you’ve been a nuisance and a burden at the same time.

“You’ve constantly done things of your own volition, claiming they will aid us in the future, but look at where we are! Two steps from defeating our enemy, and your little ‘deviations’ have done nothing for us. I doubt they were even truly to aid us. I think they were either to fulfill your own power fantasies or because you constantly think you know better.”

Erik stopped breathing at the last comment, but Evelyn didn’t care. She simply cared that she hit a nerve with attributing his own personal motivations to gratification. It was a year of his antics off her chest, and even though it may not have been the best place or time to chastise him, she didn’t quite care. So, she continued.

“If I ordered you right now, right here, to give up the last of your secrets, not as your sister or your friend, but as your Inquisitor, would you do so?” she asked, knowing the question was loaded.

“No.”

She was still shocked by his answer regardless. “ _No?_ ”

Erik moved quickly and with a cold fury. He stormed up to her, with such malice that it caused Cassandra and Rainier to draw their blades. He only stopped when he was close enough for their chests to touch with a tiny movement. She could smell his breath; it smacked of blood and of the Fade as the warm air escaped from his heaving chest, now from fury rather than exhaustion. It suddenly came to Evelyn exactly how _big_ he was. She pushed the thought from her mind, knowing he was using it as an intimidation tactic.

“Let me make a few things clear for you, _Inquisitor_ ,” he growled, “You do not know better. You are a child. A child that stumbled into greatness and was validated in that greatness because you were clever in choosing your allies. But you do not know everything. You think you know my motives, but you don’t. You apparently think I view this as a game. As a story from Earth that I’ve been given the opportunity to live out as a fantasy, and that I am pushing it to the limit to overcome some sort of inferiority complex. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. And you know that; I know you do, because you’ve literally seen my memories. Everything I have done – _everything_ – has been for the people of Thedas, whether you understand that or not. And you do not understand it, nor will you, until you learn what I am keeping undisclosed and exactly _why_ I have decided doing so was the best decision I could see.”

“Erik, the war is nearly over,” Evelyn snapped, “And none of your little machinations have aided us in any way.”

“Have they not? I prepared for Haven’s fall in quiet to prevent a panic, even among the advisors and Inner Circle. I revealed the necessity of the Grey Wardens so you could gain an alliance. I went to Therinfal Redoubt so you didn’t have to fight an envy demon that would have invaded your mind. I left everything in the tunnels so you could survive the blizzard; it was coincidence that I decided to accompany you. I was willing to sacrifice myself in the Fade so that you didn’t have to have the guilt of choosing to send a friend to their death. I told you about the Well of Sorrows so that you weren’t fumbling in the dark when we got here.”

“Ad the Qunari dreadnought? The mirrors? What about those?” she asked loudly. Erik stared wide-eyed at her, his jaw clenching down so hard she wondered if he would break his teeth.

“The dreadnought will be used as a weapon against the Qun when they invade mainland Tevinter in 9:45 Dragon. The mirrors–”

“Hang on a minute,” Dorian interrupted, “Did you just say the Qunari will invade mainland Tevinter?”

“Yes, Dorian, and Ventus will fall. Now, as much as I hate to say this, shut the fuck up so I can finish my rant,” he drawled before turning back to Evelyn, his fury even colder than it was before.

“As for the eluvian network,” he continued, “They _were_ going to be a tool against an even greater threat. But you may have fucked that up for us.”

Evelyn crossed her arms and stared at her brother. “How am I supposed to know when you don’t reveal anything to me?”

Erik scoffed. “I was keeping it from you to keep your eyes on Corypheus and not the future. That was my burden.”

“Until it wasn’t, and I learn what you were hiding from me and realize how much we could have changed.”

“You wouldn’t have known _anything at all_ had I never shown up,” he murmured, suddenly pushing past her. She turned to watch his retreating figure.

“Where do you think you’re going? We aren’t done having this conversation,” she snapped.

“Yes, we are,” he called back, “I have nothing more to say to you, and you’re out of time. I’m going to lead you to the Well of Sorrows, and then I’m going to get a nice, cold, hard drink and fuck off for the rest of the war.”

Evelyn blinked at his last comment and glanced at Cassandra beside her, the Seeker’s mouth slightly agape. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Ignore him,” she said, “He’ll help us.”

“On the contrary,” Solas rebutted, sorrow and another emotion in his eyes, “Erik is a spirit of will, and perhaps the strongest of those of his ilk. He is certainly the strongest will spirit I have ever met. If he makes an intention clear, there is no reason to believe he will do anything but follow through on that intent.”

Evelyn’s heart dropped into her stomach as she suddenly wondered if she made a colossal mistake.

* * *

Erik ignored the banter between Morrigan and Solas behind them, taking no satisfaction in the fact that Morrigan was not the expert she claimed to be on the ancient elves. He took no satisfaction in anything that they saw. All he saw was the ruins of what once was, an empire greater than the ground it was built upon and more corrupt than an Archdemon. And all he thought about was what he had just said to Evelyn.

He regretted none of it. As much as he loved her, he truly thought she was a child that had stumbled into power. Erik had fought for everything he’d had. He’d watched his friends die and had killed so many he’d lost count. Some couldn’t even be called men. He always did what was needed, and more, because it was what defined him – now in a quite literal sense. He’d died for that. The suicide attempt may have failed, but he still spent a thousand years in purgatory even if he did not known it. He quite literally swore to God that he would change himself when he found his way to Thedas, and he liked to think he had kept his promise. But he’d made mistakes. Several, in fact; perhaps one was not telling Evelyn about Solas. Perhaps he was in the right there. Either way, it had almost certainly cost him the eluvian network, and he had thrown in his position with the Inquisition as a bonus. That was stubbornness on his part. She was right about that, at least – that he was more stubborn than a mule. He meant it, too; he would see her safely to the Well of Sorrows, and once they were through the eluvian, he would likely retire from his work within the Inquisition upon Leliana’s return – his lover would likely ask him to stay, though whether or not Evelyn would allow someone to remain in Skyhold without contributing was up for debate, especially after the words that were exchanged. He promised himself he would likely contribute nothing more to the Inquisition. Not when the woman leading it, a woman he called a sister, attributed his – admittedly often insane – personal goals to some sort of sick power fantasy. Especially after she saw his memories and felt his emotions in the Fade. She knew he simply wanted to be happy, meaning she was simply saying it to hurt him and pressure him into revealing the one, final secret he held closer to his chest than he did any other. He respected her will to get him to open up, but he detested her methods and lack of trust. Everything he did was built on trust. Combat was an act of absolute trust, both in oneself and in those around oneself. His love for Leliana was an act of trust. She trusted that whatever he kept secret, she did not want to hear until he was ready, and he trusted that whatever she had done in the past, she put it aside and strove every day to be better. And they both trusted one another with their affection and that it was for the two of them alone.

Evelyn, evidently, did not have much trust in him. He couldn’t say whether it was due to his obscurity, or his stunt in the Fade, or something else entirely, but she did not trust him, that much was clear. And he would not follow someone that did not trust him. He would no longer aid Evelyn or the Inquisition, and if that meant Evelyn would not let him stay at Skyhold, so be it. If Leliana decided it would be best if she resigned and left with him, even better. If not, he would ask her to find him when Corypheus was defeated, and they could move somewhere quiet. Perhaps raise a family. But he would no longer aid them. Not after what Evelyn had said; it would take a tremendous effort on anyone’s account to convince him to keep working.

Evelyn stopped on one of the petitioner’s tiles, and it glowed. The Anchor resonated harmonically, clearly reacting with the ambient elven magic the tile emitted. Evelyn glanced down.

“What’s this?” she asked before glancing up to the obelisk before her, “And what does that say?”

Morrigan approached and hummed in thought. " _'Atish'all Vir Abelasan'_. It means 'enter the path of the Well of Sorrows.' There is something about knowledge. Respectful or pure. _Shiven, shivennen_..." she scoffed, "'Tis all I can translate. That it mentions the Well is a good omen."

"At least we know the Well of Sorrows was important,” Evelyn muttered. Erik glanced at Solas, and the ancient god rolled his eyes.

“Morrigan, don’t lie,” Aedan said, approaching his wife, “You’re withholding information because a part of you wants the Well. Remember what Erik said.”

Morrigan sighed. “The Well comes with a price. Presumably, the price Erik mentioned during our discussion about this artifact. And Aedan is right. It is a price I am not willing to pay, no matter how tempting.”

“At least he wasn’t omitting anything about _that_ secret,” Evelyn scoffed. Erik threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Supplicants to Mythal would first have paid obeisance here,” Morrigan explained, ignoring him, “Following their path may aid entry."

"Perform a ritual to appease elven gods?” Cassandra said wearily, “Long-dead or no, I don't like it."

“Neither do I,” Hawke agreed, “Do we have to do this?”

"If need be,” Morrigan shrugged at the Champion and Seeker, “Unless you wish to turn back?"

Erik let the voices and Evelyn’s attempt to perform the ritual drift away as he wandered to a piece of the temple wall, knowing Solas would follow. And follow the old wolf did. Solas slunk up next to him, gazing at the myriad of statues and mosaics along the wall. Neither man said a word for a time.

“This was a marvel of unparalleled beauty, once,” Solas said suddenly. Erik raised his eyebrow.

“It’s still a marvel,” he shrugged, “The world simply changed.” A sadness filled Solas’s eyes. One Erik knew he could never hope to understand. Solas changed the subject the next time he spoke.

“You intend on following through with your vow to end your aid, then?” he asked. Erik nodded.

“You saw my memories, too,” Erik spat with less energy than he’d hoped, “You know what she said to me couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

“I know,” the elf nodded, “I believe your sister was merely attempting to elicit an emotional reaction from you, and use it to manipulate you into revealing your secret. And I would like to thank you for not giving in.”

“It wasn’t for you, Solas,” he said, “We can’t afford to have her distracted.”

“And your absence from the Inquisition’s workings will not affect her worse than the truth about me?”

“If she says things like that, I don’t care,” Erik said blandly, “I’ve lived a long life, Solas. Not as long as you, but still. I just want to go find a nice, quiet place to live and raise a kid with Leliana. If she’s willing to say things like that after everything we’ve been through, I want nothing to do with her.”

Solas let out a chuckle. “A spirit of will choosing to give up something in pursuit of a sedentary life? Be careful you do not slip into sloth, my friend.”

“Sloth would lack the will to do anything,” he defended, “I want to have a family. Caring for one takes work.”

“I suppose it does, if one is to be a good father,” Solas agreed. He paused for a moment as his eyes flicked over the long-dead ruins, and Erik knew what his next question would be before he voiced it.

“The eluvian network. It is under your control?” the god asked. Erik let out a sigh of defeat.

“A sizeable portion currently is,” he nodded, “I acquired my branch of the network during the peace talks.”

“You realize I cannot allow that to continue,” he said. Erik let out a grunt.

“And _you_ realize I can’t allow you to take it from me,” he rebutted. Solas let out a chuckle.

“Erik, my friend, you may be old, and wise, and powerful, but I am more,” he reminded him, his namesake pride showing in a blatant way, “If I wish to take the network, I will take it, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Erik sighed. He knew that if it came to it, Solas would almost certainly overpower him in a straight fight, especially when he came for the network, which would almost certainly be after his confrontation with Mythal.

“It will not be for some time,” Solas continued, “Likely after I recover the orb. I cannot afford to have anyone other than myself in control of the network.”

“It appears we’re at an impasse, then,” Erik smiled, “I can’t let you have the network, and you can’t afford to have me in control of it.”

Anything further that could be said was interrupted by Evelyn calling out to them.

“Let’s go!” she shouted as the gates into the next area of the temple ground open, “You can have your discussion about elven history later.”

“If only she knew,” the two men said at the same time.

They followed through the hall, and suddenly Evelyn stopped, staring at a massive statue of a wolf. Morrigan stood next to her, completely perplexed.

“This makes no sense,” Morrigan said, “Even with Erik’s own explanations of what happened to Mythal, elven legend states that Fen’harel betrayed her.”

“And? What does that have to do with the statue of a wolf?” Evelyn asked.

“Why would there be a statue of the Dread Wolf in a temple dedicated to Mythal when their inhabitants believed an incorrect tale?”

“They didn’t believe that,” Erik snapped as he strode past, “This temple is older than the Dalish myths.”

“And I don’t suppose you have an explanation as to why this is here?” Evelyn asked, clearly frustrated.

“I absolutely have an explanation. I’m just not sharing it,” he shrugged. Erik thought he heard her call him an ‘insufferable dickhead’, but he was more focused on the group of Red Templars and Venatori jumping down a freshly bored hole near the next set of gates up ahead. Rainier clearly saw them, as well.

“Inquisitor, we need to move,” he barked, “The Elder One’s forces are just ahead of us.”

Evelyn glanced at the hole the Templars had dug and cursed. She sprinted toward the hole, barking back at the rest of the Inner Circle.

"Come on. We might catch them," she shouted as she approached the freshly-dug tunnel. Morrigan stopped her as they approached the hole.

"Hold. A moment,” she nodded toward the gates, “While they rush ahead, this leads to our true destination. We should walk the petitioner's path, as before."

"In this case, I must agree with the witch," Solas said quickly as he lazily approached next to Erik, "This is ancient ground, deserving of our respect."

Morrigan blinked in surprise at the agreement, especially since the witch and god were at each other’s throats the entire time they’d been in the temple. Morrigan was quick to jump on the opportunity.

"You see the urgency,” she pressed, “We cannot find the Well of Sorrows unprepared."

Evelyn crossed her arms and chewed her lip. “We don't know what's behind those doors. They might have a reason for going another way."

"Had they the option, they would have proceeded," Morrigan's gestures were insistent. "The petitioner’s path must lead to their goal."

Evelyn stopped for a moment and glanced around. Finally, in a move Erik both hoped she would make and hoped she wouldn’t, she turned toward him.

“Any insights?” she asked. Erik let out a laugh of disgust.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not Inquisitor. This is your decision and yours alone. Wouldn’t want to color it with my own ‘power fantasy’.”

“You know what?” she huffed, “Fuck you. I doubt you know much about what’s going on and you’re simply covering it up.”

“On the contrary; Erik knows a great amount,” Solas said, “It is what he and I have been discussing this entire time.”

“Well, then, why aren’t you sharing?” she asked through grit teeth.

“Because, this isn’t necessary to my ‘power trip’,” he drawled facetiously as he strode past, “Why would I want to help or interfere?”

“Ouch,” Isabela muttered. Hawke followed Erik to where he waited by the doors with a raised eyebrow. She could tell he wanted to go through the gates instead of the tunnels. Aedan approached, as well.

“Erik, you need to stop acting like a child,” he said with a sigh, “I know the Inquisitor’s words were uncalled for, but so is your reaction.”

“No, I think it's quite called for,” Hawke shook her head, with her wife nodding in agreement at her side, “You didn’t see what Erik went through to get here.”

Aedan blinked and studied him. “What? What did you go through?”

“A suicide attempt back on Earth. Death when I traveled to Thedas. Several broken bones, the deaths of several of my friends, and the deepest misery a human can experience,” Erik shrugged, “Take your pick. For her to suggest that I’ve done everything I've accomplished in Thedas simply to have power and compensate for an inferiority complex, especially after she _saw_ my life, is absolutely uncalled for. I will not aid someone who deliberately attacks someone they call a brother.”

“Erik, you have been extremely vague ever since we’ve known you,” Isabela defended, “It would help if you explain why you’ve done the things you’ve done.”

Erik sighed and ran a hand through his gritty hair. “I can’t. It’s extremely dangerous. I can’t afford the knowledge spreading or worrying anyone else.”

“Does Leliana know?” Aedan pressed, crossing his arms as Erik spied Evelyn working with Morrigan and Dorian to get the gates open. He sighed with relief. He didn’t want to expend any more ammunition than he had to, and fighting the Sentinels would only slow them down.

“She knows a little. She was worried for me,” he confirmed. Aedan raised an eyebrow.

“And you don’t think the Inquisitor is simply worried for you?” he asked. Erik shook his head.

“No, she did what a sibling does and lashed out to try and hurt their brother.”

“How do you know that’s the case?” Hawke asked. Erik began to push past them.

“Hawke, you have a sister. You had a brother. Don’t tell me that what I just said isn’t true.”

Marian opened her mouth to protest, then closed it and scowled as she followed him toward the next gate.

“Well, you got me there,” she shrugged.

* * *

Evelyn had to trust that Cullen would hold and finish the battle without them. It was nearly over anyways, but she knew her forces were exhausted from a day and a half of combat. But she had to push that thought from her mind and focus on the goal ahead of her. She had no other option; everything happening outside the temple walls was pointless if she didn’t succeed in her goal. The idea of what she was about to do was dread-inducing. She had no idea what exactly would happen when she drank from the Well of Sorrows. Perhaps she would remain largely the same. Perhaps her mind would no longer be her own. It was clear that she would likely not be the same after she drank from the water, but how she would be different was unclear. Erik didn’t seem to know, and if he did, he wouldn’t tell her, as was usual.

Evelyn’s mind turned toward the fight she had with her brother. She supposed it was a long time coming; she could only hold back her frustration with his cryptic explanations for so long. Part of her had hoped that his realization of his time as a spirit would have opened him up some, but it only seemed to make him more stubborn. He was insufferable at times, so opaque and dodgy that she didn’t know if he even intended to be understood. His misstep with completely forgetting to tell her about Corypheus’s immortality was the final straw – she’d snapped. And she’d hurt him, that much was clear. She was intending to. She knew he wasn’t working toward some power fantasy, but she also knew it was so far from reality that he would be angry if she could make him believe she truly thought so.

She didn’t expect him to quit his position within the Inquisition over it. Which was what he was doing, it seemed. He hadn’t spoken more than three or four words to her since their spat, and he didn’t seem to intend to say much more. She hadn’t really seen this side of him often, and never this bad. He was usually rather cheerful, whether to mask other feelings or to lighten a mood that was already too grim. Now as she glanced across the courtyard, he merely sat waiting at the next gate and had short conversations with Solas, Marian, or Aedan. Dorian tried speaking to him once in an attempt to help him see reason – he’d returned informing Evelyn that Erik said he _was_ seeing reason, and that any leader who accused him of having such motivations was one he didn’t want to follow. That one hurt; she wondered if she went too far.

Evelyn cursed as she nearly stepped on a tile she’d already pressed in her distraction, and she pushed Erik out of her mind and focused on the task at hand. She carefully stepped to the last tile, and they all glowed in unison. The gate opened suddenly. She glanced over to see Erik raise his rifle on one side and Varric raise his crossbow on the other. Erik said something to the dwarf, and they relaxed. Evelyn raised an eyebrow and entered the interior of the temple.

The place nearly seemed untouched. Great mosaics adorned the walls, glowing with an eerie light that emanated from within; the floor was patterned with small yellow and brown tiles, making up a pattern that Evelyn had never seen before and would likely neve see again. The room was uncomfortably quiet as they crept through, the only sounds their breathing and their footfalls. As she glanced around, she noticed something even more peculiar: the look painting Solas’s face was one of melancholy and nostalgia. She raised an eyebrow at the history-loving elf, who paid her no mind.

"'Tis not what I expected,” Morrigan hummed at Aedan’s side, “What was this chamber used for..."

Erik strode up beside her, and with his voice low, gave her a single warning.

"We're being watched." She froze at those words, realizing he was right. The feeling of unease in the room came not from its emptiness, but rather its _lack_ of emptiness. She could feel now the sensation of dozens of pairs of eyes on them all, hostile and wary. She glanced around once, noting the half dozen or so archers standing behind them, bows at the ready. Footsteps from the balcony above turned her attention back to the front of the chamber.

" _Venavis_ ," he said in a calm, even tone. Evelyn studied him for a moment. His hood was up, but she could still clearly see the vallaslin adorning his brow and nose. Elven, then. But everything else was different about him. He was taller than any of the elves she’d met, more broadly built and les sickly looking. His eyes were proportional, though still held the shimmering trait that granted them such keen vision at night. His armor was an opulent gold color and hugged his form tighter than any metal she knew.

Evelyn suddenly understood that she was staring not at an elf, but one of the Elvhen – an ancient elf.

"You... are unlike the other invaders,” he said after a moment of studying them, “You stumble down our paths at the side of one of our own. You bear the mark of magic which is familiar. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"

Evelyn’s heart stopped in her chest. It was as though a key piece of a puzzle had suddenly fallen in place. She didn’t need to glance at him to know; the ancient elf’s words were all she needed.

‘You stumble down our paths at the side of one of our own.’

She suddenly understood what Erik was hiding. Why he was so wary around the elf. Why he refused to have him around whenever he was revealing his plans, and why Solas was so vehement about not drinking from the Well of Sorrows.

Solas was lying to them. He was not some hermit. He was much, much more than that. He was taller and more well-built than any elf she’d encountered, save for the ones before her. His eyes looked as though they fit his face. He had a sense of wisdom about him that only came with age. His knowledge of the Fade, of the ancients, of magic and the Veil, were not from countless nights in the Fade. It was because he lived them.

Solas was an ancient elf.

She kept her shock down and pushed it aside for the time being as she stepped forward to answer the Elvhen man’s question.

"They are my enemies, as well as yours," she explained. The elf studied her for a moment, his cowl masking any emotions he may have been telegraphing. He stood unnaturally still as he judged them, then finally nodded.

"I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground," he explained, "We wake from _uthenera_ only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the _vir'abelasan_."

"'The Place to the Way of Sorrows.' He speaks of the well," Morrigan hissed at her side. Abelas turned his head slightly, his lips growing tight; he clearly heard the woman’s words.

"It is not for you. It is not for any of you," he said with finality.

Evelyn turned toward her Elvhen companion, hoping to capitalize on her realization.

"Solas, perhaps he'll listen to you?"

"What shall I say, Inquisitor?” he asked in an offended tone, "Shall I sway him from a millennia of service by virtue of our shared blood? He clings to all that remains of his world, because he lacks the power to restore it."

She cursed mentally. She didn’t want to fight the Elvhen; they likely had millennia of experience behind them, something only one of her companions had. Well, two, apparently.

"What is this _vir'abelasan_ , exactly?" she asked, hoping to gain more information so she could bargain on an even table.

"It is a path, one walked only by those who toiled in Mythal's favor," Erik said grimly.

Abelas nodded. “Your Firstborn companion speaks the truth. Only those who have earned the All-Mother’s favor may travel its road.”

"He speaks of priests, perhaps?" Morrigan suggested.

"More than that you need not know," Abelas added. Evelyn sighed and attempted to pry more information from Abelas.

"So, you're elves from ancient times? Before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan?" she pressed.

Abelas shook his head. "The _shemlen_ did not destroy Arlathan. We Elvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over. We awaken only when called, and each time find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless. We endure. The _vir'abelasan_ must be preserved."

Evelyn nearly dropped the staff in her hand. Erik did not tell her that. He’d _implied_ that Tevinter didn’t destroy Arlathan, but he never outright told her. Dorian made a choking noise to her left, and nearly everyone else stared at Abelas in shock as the Elvhen destroyed their concept of history with a single sentence.

Evelyn sighed. "We did not come here to fight you, nor to steal from your temple."

He gazed at them, clearly deep in thought. In a moment that seemed both a moment and an eternity, Abelas pored over her soul, searching for a single shred of misinformation. Finally, he nodded.

"I believe you. Trespassers you are, but you have followed the rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal,” Abelas said with finality, “If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart. And never return."

"This is our goal, is it not?” Solas urged under his breath, "There is no reason to fight these Sentinels."

"Consider carefully,” Morrigan reminded her, “You must stop Corypheus, yes, but you also need to the Well for your own."

"I accept your offer," Evelyn sighed once more, releasing the stress from her body as she did so. They could negotiate for the Well later. Erik murmured something to Aedan, who merely nodded back. He shifted slightly closer to his wife.

"You will be guided to those you seek,” Abelas nodded in agreement, “As for the _vir'abelasan_ , it shall not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself."

“No!” Morrigan snapped, channeling her energy into a spell – one which was quickly broken by Aedan, who grabbed both her arms and stepped behind her. The witch growled.

“Aedan. Let. Me. Go,” she grit at her husband. Aedan shook his head.

“Flemeth, remember?” Aedan warned. Morrigan froze at once, then deflated. She dropped her head. He ran a hand along her shoulder.

“I know it’s hard, but let it go,” he said, “You’ll be glad you did in the end.”

“I…” she took a deep breath, “Very well.”

The guide Abelas had left for them shouted something in elvhen. Evelyn had no idea what was said, but she was nearly certain it meant ‘hurry the fuck up, I don’t have all day.’ She held up a hand and turned to her companions.

“Let’s go,” she ordered, “We need to get to Samson.”

Their guide led them through the Temple, and they cut down Red Templars as they moved. In between, the anchor kissed the shadows that danced on the art adorning the walls, allowing Evelyn to learn more about the ancient elves than all the Dalish in the world combined. She learned bits and pieces of the true history of the Elvhen, each little bit slowly eroding what little she already thought she knew of history. Each time she gazed upon one of the mosaics, images bore into her head, tales of a civilization long gone, now no more than dust in the wind. Each bit of information shone a light on what once was, now lost to time, full of grandeur and wonders even Erik’s old world could not touch. Crystal spires rose into the sky, cities rose in the sky, roads were made of light, and conversations lasted decades. Even the air in those wondrous images seemed to suggest life and magic, far more than what danced before her fingertips. It was like watching a completely different world. The Elvhen gods – the Evanuris – were real, and they were powerful beyond belief.

Yet she couldn’t shake one thing that was glaringly missing in all the images she was shown. One glaring thing that made her squirm with unease even in her awe. The Veil was not present.

She supposed it could have been a trick of the Anchor or the way the images were depicted. But she knew better. She knew that the beauty she was graced with was only possible because there was much more magic inherent in the world, and the only way the world’s magic supply would have been that high is if there had been no Veil during the time of Arlathan. Which meant that the Maker did not create the Veil. An elf did.

Evelyn suddenly began to understand why Erik had been so tight-lipped about the Temple and what they would find. She only wondered if his final bit of secrets involved the conclusion she had just drawn.

At least once, Evelyn wandered too far, and their guide turned around and snapped at her.

"I believe she would prefer that we remain close," Solas translated. Evelyn nodded, wishing she had more time to peer into the past. But she knew duty called.

They cut down the last of the Red Templars and exited the temple proper, coming upon a shaded garden, decayed with time. In the distance, Evelyn could see the reflection of water on the stones atop a spire.

"The Well of Sorrows," Morrigan breathed, seemingly in awe.

"So it is true. Mythal endures," Solas smiled, his voice full of relief.

"Andraste guide us," Cassandra grumbled, the last in a line of bad things she had to say about the Temple.

They weren’t quite finished, however; Samson was just below them, he and his personal team cutting down a small group of the Sentinels.

"You tough bastards - a day's march, hours of fighting, and still fierce as dragons," Samson laughed, clapping one of his men on the back, "The Chantry never knew what it was throwing away."

"Samson," a second Templar shouted, "Ser – watch out!"

Samson turned to greet them with a grin. "Inquisitor. You and those elf-things don't know when to stop, do you? You've hunted us half across Thedas. I should've guessed you'd follow us into this hole."

Evelyn drew a barrier around herself as they approached.

“I spoke with your Tranquil, Maddox. He sacrificed himself for your cause." Samson’s face twisted in shock and sorrow, and the man suddenly seemed very human.

"I told him not to,” he sighed before standing straighter, "He died as one of us, then. One of the faithful. Corypheus chose me twice. First as his general, now as the Vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what's inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world. I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor."

Evelyn pondered her situation. It was likely too late to reason with Samson. It was also likely any confrontation would slow her down, giving Abelas the chance to destroy the Well. She couldn’t allow that. She had to dispose of the man quickly. Samson drew his sword and grinned at her.

"So, Inquisitor. How will this go?" Evelyn smirked and twirled her staff in her hand. Her companions drew and readied their weapons.

“Power's all well and good. Until it's taken away.” Erik was holding the rune in his left hand, and it resonated and hummed like a tuning fork. Samson took a step back, then two, glancing down at his armor. It cracked with the resonation of the rune, then crumbled to pieces, taking pieces of his skin with it.

He screamed as his raw flesh was exposed to the cold air of the Wilds. His sword hand faltered briefly, and his team moved to guard his weak spots. Samson collapsed to his knees.

"What did you do? _What did you do?_ My armor. It's gone. The lyrium - I need it," he growled in frustration and hefted his blade as he stood, "Kill them–”

He was interrupted with a crack from Erik’s rifle. The back of his head exploded in a spray of blackened blood, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Raleigh Samson collapsed as though his legs had vanished; his body crumpled in on itself as his brain oozed out the hole in the back of his skull.

“We don’t have time for this,” Erik growled. As angry as she was at him for his deception, she had to agree. She threw a chain lightning spell at the remaining Templars before Fade-stepping between them and driving her staff blade into one of them as he stood paralyzed. Cassandra cut down another, while Blackwall stepped in and killed the final one. They moved quickly, leaving the bodies where they lay. Evelyn could see Abelas climbing the steps to the Well. She expended the last of her energy and sprinted the last leg to the raised dais.

“Abelas!”

The ancient sentinel turned and dropped his head in defeat.

"So the sanctum is despoiled at last," he sighed in defeat.

"You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance," Morrigan spat as she strode up alongside Aedan.

"To keep it from your grasping fingers. Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving,” Abelas tried to explain

"Fool,” she scoffed, “You'd let your people's legacy rot in the shadows."

“Corypheus needed Samson to use the Well,” Evelyn shrugged, “Now that he’s dead, there's no 'Vessel' to claim it."

Aedan shook his head in disagreement. "The moment we leave, he will send more forces to secure this place The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. Erik already warned you would need to drink from its waters. Why hesitate now?”

"Do you even know what you ask?" Abelas balked, "As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on. Through this. All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever."

Evelyn felt a pang of sympathy for the elf. "This can't be easy, holding on to what's lost." Abelas let out a dry, hollow laugh.

"You cannot imagine. Each time we awaken, it slips further from our grasp.”

"There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger," Solas offered, stepping up beside Abelas. Evelyn felt a pang of horrible danger from the way he said those words, and she pushed them down.

"Elvhen such as you?" Abelas asked hopefully.

"Yes." Solas nodded, "Such as I."

Abelas thought for a moment, then turned toward Evelyn. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the _vir'abelasan_ as best you can, to fight your enemy?"

Evelyn decided to respect what the elf had lost. "Not without your permission."

"One does not obtain permission. One obtains the _right_ ,” he corrected, “The _vir'abelasan_ may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal, though she was betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the _vir'abelasan_ remains. As do we. That is something."

He turned to leave, dejected and broken. Evelyn turned toward him.

"Are you leaving the temple?"

"Our duty ends. Why remain?"

"There is a place for you, _lethallin_..." Solas reminded him softly, "If you seek it."

"Perhaps there are placed the shemlen have not touched,” Abelas shrugged, “It may be that only uthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken. If fate is kind."

"Thank you for this gift, Abelas," Evelyn inclined her head, feeling truly humbled. She had no idea what the Well truly meant when Erik explained it.

"Do not thank me yet, shemlen," Abelas warned.

" _Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas_ ,” Solas called as he left. The Sentinel froze momentarily, then descended the stairs as he left behind all that remained of his eternal duty. Evelyn turned toward Solas and raised an eyebrow.

"His name. Abelas means sorrow,” he explained, “I told him hoped he finds a new name."

They were left with the Well of Sorrows, its contents lapping at the stones as a gentle wind blew over them. Evelyn combed a strand of hair from her face and gazed at the shallow pool of water.

"You'll note the intact eluvian. I was correct on that count, at least," Morrigan grumbled before gazing at the well, “I did not expect the Well to feel so… hungry."

Both women shivered at the same time. Evelyn realized Morrigan was right. The Well of Sorrows seemed to be beckoning for her, as though hands were caressing the back of her mind to draw her closer to the maw of the pool.

"Let's not be reckless. I don't want anyone hurt," she said. Morrigan nodded her agreement.

"I would be willing to pay the price the Well demands, but…"

“Your mother. I understand,” she finished, “I would hate myself too if I drank from a magic well that bound me to the will of my mother for the rest of my life.”

“‘Tis a horrifying thought,” the witch agreed with a laugh. Evelyn let the smile fall naturally from her face, and she took a deep breath. This was it. She was about to drink from something literally called the ‘Well of Sorrows’, and she was doing it voluntarily. If this wasn’t the dumbest decision she would make in her entire life, she would have to kick her future self for being so dumb.

“Alright,” she hummed, “Here goes nothing.”

“Inquisitor, are you sure?” Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder, “There must be someone else that could drink from the Well.”

“There is no one else, Cassandra,” she said uneasily, “It has to be me.”

“Why not Lady Morrigan?”

“She has personal reasons to not drink,” Evelyn shrugged, “Which I imagine she would not be keen to share publicly. And she has Kieran. That alone is enough to bar her from being able to drink.”

“But the Inquisition–”

“Will be fine without me, if anything happens,” Evelyn reassured her. She glanced toward Erik, who was watching her with a stony expression. He gave her no response, verbal or otherwise. Evelyn swallowed and turned toward the Well. She took her first steps in. The water was unnaturally warm, and her calves relaxed as they were covered in the substance. She stepped down the first ledge, the water up to her knees. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. A third step, and the water was at her waist. She took a final calming breath and descended the final step; her stomach retreated instinctively at the feel of the substance.

Evelyn discarded her gloves and tossed them away from the Well as she waded toward the center of the pool. She glanced down at the tiled basin of the Well of Sorrows, marveling briefly at the ancient work that she found herself in before cupping her hands and dunking them beneath the surface.

She brought the water up to her lips and drank.

Despite the warmth of the pool, the water was cool and refreshing as it touched her lips and trickled down the back of her throat. She took a breath and drank once more, her apprehension waning after the first drink. There was no going back now, she reasoned.

As she swallowed the second bit of the Well’s waters, she realized she was no longer in the Temple of Mythal.

* * *

Aedan watched the Inquisitor collapse beneath the surface of the water, and he cursed himself for the relief he felt that Morrigan had not been the one to drink. He laced his fingers through his wife’s and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. The Inner Circle waited a moment, then two. Evelyn had not reemerged. Erik cursed and unslung his rifle, handing it to Aedan. He took it in shock.

“Weapon to your cheek, not cheek to weapon,” Erik said quickly, “Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull. Look through the reticle and put the little red arrow in there over whatever you’re aiming at.”

Before Aedan could ask what he was doing, Erik jumped into the water. He took a deep breath and plunged beneath the water briefly, coming up with the Inquisitor. He walked both of them to the edge of the pool and laid her down on her side. The rest of the Inner Circle ran to their side. There was a moment of silence, then two. Then Evelyn coughed up a bit of water and her eyes fluttered open.

“Not dead!” Dorian breathed a laugh, “Well, that’s a relief. So. Good? Bad? I’m dying to know.”

“ _Ellasin selah. Vissan..._ " Evelyn glanced around in confusion, " _Vissanalla_...”

“Welp, we’re fucked,” Hawke threw up her hands, “The Inquisitor only speaks elvhen now.”

Evelyn smacked her lips briefly and scraped her tongue against her teeth as she pulled her drenched hair from her face.

“No… no, I’m fine.”

Aedan breathed a sigh of relief, then froze as he heard movement from the water. He turned to see motes of blue light emerging from the Well of Sorrows with a trail of smoke. He frowned, then glanced across the temple. Corypheus stood on the balcony they had climbed down just minutes before.

“Inquisitor,” he warned, “I know you’re likely disoriented and exhausted, but we need you to get that eluvian open _now_.”

Evelyn looked at him in confusion as she scraped water from her ear with her pinky, then bolted upright when she saw the raging figure of Corypheus flying toward them from across the temple grounds. She shot to her feet and trotted toward the eluvian.

She didn’t have to do anything, as it turned out. The eluvian sprang to life on its own, and the Inner Circle began to back toward it. Erik glanced toward Aedan.

“I gave you my rifle for a reason, dude,” he said warily, “Slow him down.”

Aedan took a deep breath and shouldered the rifle like he saw Erik do. His thumb wrapped around the top of what Erik had called the ‘handguard’ and he brought the buttstock to his shoulder, then to his cheek. He glanced through the sight on the top and nearly jumped in shock before he realized the optic was magnifying. Aedan took a deep breath once more to calm himself, then he aimed for the would-be god.

He followed Erik’s brief instructions and squeezed the trigger, rather than pulling it.

He didn’t expect the weapon to kick back into his shoulder pocket like it did, but he kept the weapon under control regardless. Almost instantly, Corypheus jerked his shoulder back as he roared in pain. He stopped moving for a brief bit before continuing his advance, but that brief bit was enough. The Inner Circle were nearly all through the eluvian. His wife grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him through the portal.

The last time he saw the Temple of Mythal, a figure was rising from the water as a goddess faced off against a false god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Det Som En Gang Var (Norwegian for What Once Was) by Burzum - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jw6-LzuEvb4
> 
> The sole musician behind Burzum, Varg Vikernes, has some... more than questionable beliefs. I do not care. As long as he isn't spewing his politics in his music, I am able to separate Varg's art from hiim and appreciate the music for what it is without paying attention to his borderline racist (often outright racist) belief system. 
> 
> As for Evelyn and Erik's spat, because I imagine I'm going to get questions about it: siblings fight. People who love each other in any way often lash out in an attempt to hurt the other person. I don't know why, as I'm not a psychologist. I just know firsthand that it happens.


	56. And Then There Was Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets told to take some Quibena. Aedan learns some saucy secrets. Evelyn hears voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rough around the edges, but there's a good chance I'm going into surgery soon and I wanted to put this out ASAP.
> 
> For those who don't understand the summary: Quibena--->Quibena bitch--->Quit being a bitch. Get it? Get it?  
> I'll see myself out now.

Erik stumbled through the eluvian soaking wet and exhausted. There was blood caked to his skin and hair, dirt in his brow, scrapes and cuts all over his face, and his teeth were still slightly stained with the ruby fluid he’d torn brutishly from the Red Templars. He wordlessly took his rifle back from Aedan and stalked out of the chamber Morrigan kept the mirror in, throwing the door to the garden open with much more force than necessary. Those enjoying the garden spun toward him at the noise, with a handful of Chantry mothers jumping at the loud _bang_ the door made against the stones. Several nobles looked at him in his filthy state with disdain and more than a little shock and disgust. Erik was having none of it.

“The _fuck_ you looking at?” he shouted at them with extreme aggression. They straightened and turned their gazes away from his disheveled state. Erik glanced around the garden once more, suddenly noticing Pana near the gazebo, carrying her infant and teaching a group of mismatched youth of all ages. He inwardly cringed.

“ _Sorry_ ,” he called in Qunlat. She waved him off and he continued his lumbering through the castle, the rest of the Inner Circle following quickly behind him. He heard the light footfalls of a mage trotting toward him, and he presumed it was Evelyn. His presumption turned out to be correct.

“What the fuck just happened?” she asked, “Are we safe? Can Corypheus follow us through the eluvian?”

“You’re the Inquisitor,” Erik grunted, “Be inquisitive. I’m done helping you.”

She grabbed his arm as they entered the main hall and spun him toward her. He allowed it.

“Erik, what is your problem? Are you still angry about that spat we had?”

“It was more than a spat,” he rebutted, his voice cold, “You deliberately attacked my motivations for no other reason than to hurt me. You _know_ that your accusation was baseless; you’ve literally seen my memories and felt my emotions. I will not follow or aid someone who does that to someone she calls a brother.”

Evelyn glared at him. “I was trying to get you to open up about what you’re hiding. If you would have seen that–”

“And if you would have seen that no matter how much you push, poke and pry, I won’t tell you secrets until the time is right, then you would have never even come up with the asinine idea that verbally attacking me would have caused me to open up,” he argued.

“You verbally attacked me, as well, remember?”

“I didn’t attack you. I was being honest,” he corrected, “You _are_ a child, fumbling through the dark and blindly grasping at things that you cannot even begin to be true. The truth is rarely intended as an insult. Your comment, on the other hand, was absolutely intended as an insult, and I will not suffer insults while I toil away alongside all of you while at the same time working to make the future easier for all of us.”

Evelyn crossed her arms and cocked her hip defiantly. “So that’s it then? You’re just resigning?”

Erik shrugged. “You never needed me to begin with. I’m going to tie up some loose ends tonight, and once Leliana and I come to a decision about our future, I won’t be serving in the Inquisition further.”

Evelyn actually looked as though she were about to cry. Her lips began to tremble in an odd, pouting way that was clearly completely involuntary, and her eyes grew watery. She studied him for several moments, likely searching for any sign of disingenuity; evidently, she found none. There was none there for her to find, anyways. She took a shaky breath as she attempted to compose herself.

“Well,” she said after several moments of tense silence, speaking in a wavering voice, “If you change your mind, you know you’ll always have a place with us. If you don’t, it’s been a blessing having you with us.”

Erik said nothing in return and displayed no emotions. He felt nothing regarding her final words; why should he show false emotion? Evelyn would just see through it, anyways. He took a deep breath, adjusting his breastplate’s straps on his shoulders.

“I’m going to take a bath,” he said with finality, “I’ll speak with Leliana tonight and get an update from her about the battle, and I’ll be sure to find you when she and I come to an agreement about what we’re going to do going forward, Inquisitor.”

He stepped past her and toward the tower, ignoring the choking sound she made at his deliberate use of her title. He let out an exhausted sigh and lumbered up the stairs, deciding he was going to get a drink and then go cry.

After soaking in the bath and thinking about absolutely nothing, he found himself on the second floor of the Herald’s Rest, drinking directly from a bottle of dark amber whiskey. He took another pull from the mouth of the drink, relishing the burning sensation sliding down his throat and the fire in his nostrils on his exhale. He paused and rested the bottle on his upper thigh.

The Rest was empty save for the bartender, Cabot; all of Skyhold was largely devoid of residents, truthfully. It was an odd feeling, reminding him of when they’d first arrived at the fortress a year prior. The only conversations being had were those of visiting nobles hoping to bask in the favor and grandeur of the Inquisitor, and those were largely quiet, as well. It felt like the fortress were holding its breath.

Footfalls approached from the staircase behind him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Aedan approaching him, freshly bathed and his beard trimmed. He flopped into the chair across from Erik in a way unbefitting his noble heritage and made a waving motion for the bottle. Erik handed him the whiskey and studied him as he took a drink.

“Some battle that was,” Aedan chuckled, his voice like a wheel scraping across gravel, the rasp exacerbated by the alcohol. Erik assumed the rasp came from the scar on his throat; he assumed his vocal cords were cut during the Blight.

“Yeah. Some fuckin’ battle,” Erik agreed as he pulled his hair out from behind his back. He pondered why The Warden had come searching for him as the silence dragged on and they passed the bottle back and forth across the table.

“I wanted to thank you,” Aedan finally said after a while, “For warning us about Morrigan’s mother. If she had drank and I’d learned you knew of the consequences she’d face…”

“I know. I would feel the same way if someone knew Marjolaine were still alive and didn’t warn myself or Leliana,” Erik nodded as he rolled the cork in his hand, “It was no trouble.”

Aedan hummed and caught the cork as Erik tossed it across the table. The Warden spun it on the wood and let it come to a rest.

“You could have kept your sister safe instead,” he reminded Erik, “You didn’t. Why?”

Erik thought for a moment about why he didn’t want Morrigan to drink from the Well of Sorrows. He had assumed years prior that whoever drank from the Well would likely die when Solas’s plan went into motion. So why did he immediately jump on the opportunity to keep the Witch safe when he barely knew her personally?

Then it came to him.

“When I was seventeen – fuck me, that was over twelve hundred years ago – anyways, when I was seventeen, my mother died of cancer.”

“Cancer?”

Erik thought about how to explain cancer to someone with no understanding of cell theory. He clicked his tongue in thought.

“It’s a disease. Your body starts to eat itself. If you don’t get proper treatment, it’ll kill you,” Erik explained, “My mom’s blood turned into poison, essentially. It spread to other parts of her body. I watched her wither away over the course of a year, and then she died. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. It traumatized me… I’ve never been the same. I don’t want Kieran to have to go through that.”

Aedan blinked in shock. “You speak as though you’re convinced whoever drank would be doomed to die.”

“I believe that to be the case, yes.”

“Oh.” Aedan fell silent as he let the implication of that sink in, giving time for Erik to think about it, as well. If he was correct – and he prayed he wasn’t – he had consigned Evelyn, a woman he called his sister no matter how upset he was with her, to death. It was a harrowing thought.

“Well, I suppose I should be thanking you for saving my wife’s life, then,” the Warden-Commander said, “Now, changing topics. You truly plan on leaving the Inquisition?”

Erik nodded.

“Why?”

“I told you in the Arbor Wilds, Aedan,” Erik sighed, “I’ve suffered. I’ve toiled so that we can have an opportunity to survive the future. I won’t have a woman I call a sister and my leader lashing out at me in an attempt to hurt when she knows that the truth is the opposite of what she accused me of.”

“But she just wants to know what you’re hiding,” Aedan pointed out, “We all do. Would it hurt that much to reveal it now?”

“It could,” Erik shrugged. At Aedan’s scrutinizing look, he sighed, “When I came to Thedas from Earth and the Fade and joined the Inquisition, I was up front about my foreknowledge. I told everyone I knew things that would happen because I had read them in a story. I also made sure a condition of my joining was that I wouldn’t reveal things until specific times, because it could cause drastic changes for the worse if I revealed things early. They weren’t entirely happy about it, but they agreed.”

“And this secret is one of them?”

“More than any of the others. This secret _specifically_ is the one that made me decide to withhold information.”

Aedan narrowed his lips in thought. “I still don’t like it. You say it’s dangerous, but none of us can know if you’re being truthful because we don’t know.”

Erik sighed. “Would it help if I told you? Just you?”

He blinked in surprise. “You’d do that? I thought you couldn’t tell anyone yet.”

“I can’t tell the other Inquisition leaders. I know you can keep a secret,” Erik shrugged, “You’re a Warden, and that’s half your job. I also know there’s a significant amount of mistrust you have of me since you know that this secret is dangerous.”

Aedan scratched his beard and leaned back. “If you tell me, and I decide it’s a secret worth keeping until the right time, I’ll do my best to explain to the Inquisitor that you have to keep it a secret.”

“I appreciate that, but it won’t change my decision,” he reminded him.

“What will?”

“Leliana is probably the only one that could convince me to stay at this point, and she’d have to make a compelling argument.”

He grunted in frustration. “Fine. Just tell me.”

Erik jerked his head and led Aedan to Sera’s round room on the second floor. He shut the door and windows and turned back around to the man. Aedan watched him suspiciously and crossed his arms.

“Well? We’re alone. Go ahead and tell me this secret of yours,” Aedan urged in a low voice. Erik glanced out the window to ensure no mage was within eyesight and eavesdropping on them. He turned back toward Aedan when he was convinced and spoke in a low voice.

“Solas is Fen’Harel.”

* * *

Aedan climbed the stairs of the Inquisitor’s tower and knocked on the door to Evelyn’s chambers. His breath rattled slightly in his throat, a result of his throat being slit by a Hurlock Alpha in the Deep Roads. It gave him a slightly intimidating presence, he supposed, but he had never grown used to how his voice sounded after the injury. He pushed the thought from his mind when he heard a muffled ‘enter’ from Evelyn in her tower. Aedan pushed open the door and climbed the final flight of stairs. Erik glanced around, taking in the Inquisitor’s chambers for the first time. It was an opulent but plain space, not unlike his office at Vigil’s Keep. A large, Marcher-style bed sat against one wall, shaded b the overhang that rested on four posts above it. The Inquisitor herself sat at a large desk in the corner, her staff behind her next to a shelf of various bottles of alcohol and a pile of books as tall as his mabari. Evelyn glanced up from her work briefly before turning her gaze downward once more. Aedan could see the bags under her eyes and the way her gaze darted around at random. It looked like a newly minted Warden undergoing the haunting aftermath of the Joining. He glanced at the papers beneath her hands and realized they were completely in Elvhen.

“Aedan,” she sighed a greeting, “What can I do for you?”

“I need to speak to you about Erik’s final secret,” he said without preamble. Evelyn set her pen down and rubbed her eyes.

“What’s the point? He won’t tell anyone what it is, and it’s clear I’ve driven him completely from the Inquisition,” she murmured, “I know you’re worried about the information he holds, but–”

“He told me.”

Evelyn jerked her head up abruptly. “What?”

“He told me everything,” Aedan said wearily, “I know it all now.”

“Well, don’t just hang it over my head,” she said as she drew her chair closer and laced her fingers together, “Tell me.”

He sat down across from her and shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t.”

Evelyn’s brow furrowed in anger. “Is this because of some twisted sense of honor? Did he make you swear an oath not to tell anyone? Why come all the way up here to simply tell me that you know but refuse to tell me?”

“There is no ‘twisted sense of honor’,” Aedan snapped, “I have come here to tell you that Erik is right. The secret he harbors is the most dangerous thing I have ever heard.”

“Does it involve Corypheus?”

“In a roundabout way. But it isn’t about him,” Aedan shook his head. Evelyn grunted.

“Then what the fuck is the point of keeping that secret from us?”

“You’re thinking to small, Inquisitor,” he shook his head, “This, I believe, is why Erik has kept it to himself. You are doing the right thing by focusing on Corypheus. But the secret Erik harbors is far, far greater than anything the world has ever faced.”

Evelyn gazed at him for some time, clearly lost in thought. “Is it another Blight?”

“No. We’ve faced Blights before.”

“ _Two_ Blights?”

Aedan shook his head once more. “Still too small, Inquisitor. What Erik explained to me has completely changed the way I view the world. Not only is the threat it poses beyond comprehension, it also throws history completely on its head, and not in a good way.”

“Well, that, at least, is par for the course for him,” she huffed, “Half the things he’s told me have shattered my worldview.”

Aedan let out a bitter laugh. “Think of this as less of a shattering, and more of a… complete pulverization of everything you know.”

“So you believe he’s in the right, then?”

“More than anything.”

Evelyn closed her eyes and dropped her head to her desk. Aedan merely sat in silence as she took several deep, calming breaths. It was clear she didn’t need the stress; the Well was getting to her.

“I’ll speak with him, then,” she said finally, her voice muffled, “I’ll apologize.”

“You cannot take back what you said; the demon is out of the Fade, so to speak,” Aedan shook his head, “Erik said he’s leaving regardless.”

“Then _why_ would you come up here?” she asked. Aedan sighed.

“Because I wanted you to know Erik was doing the right thing,” he said, “He is not keeping this information from you out of malice. He is keeping it from you out of a desire to keep you sane.”

“You don’t seem insane,” she scowled, “You seem just fine.”

“I’m also not Inquisitor,” he shrugged, “I don’t have the stress of fighting a war against one of the Magisters Sidereal.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s fair,” she grunted, “So he’s leaving, then?”

“He’s speaking with Leliana tonight. In the Fade,” Aedan said, “I imagine they’ll make a decision together on what will happen. He’ll tie up some loose ends, and if she can’t convince him to stay on, he’ll no longer be with the Inquisition.”

She said nothing, but her face twisted in a horrible visage of anguish, and Aedan knew her heart was slowly breaking. He felt a pang of sympathy for Evelyn at that moment. He knew what it was like to make a decision that resulted in those one cared about to lose faith in one’s leadership. It was a harsh lesson, and it was rare for those who lost faith to regain it later. Aedan merely prayed that Erik and Evelyn would reconcile; he couldn’t imagine losing his friendship with his own brother.

“Keep your head up,” he advised, “Erik is upset beyond belief, but he cares about you still. He’ll come around.”

“How can you be sure?” she asked nervously.

“Because I can tell he loves Red with all that he is,” Aedan reminded her, “And if there’s one thing I can say about her, it’s that Leliana is the most persuasive person I know. If she asks Erik to stay with the Inquisition, he’ll almost certainly stay on.”

“Erik is a spirit of will, in case you forgot.”

“He’s also a human that, by all accounts, has suffered personal losses harsher than what most ever experience, even in this world, bleak as it often is," he shrugged, "He wants nothing more than to stay with her until they pass on to the Maker’s side together.”

* * *

Erik crossed the shimmering boundary of Leliana’s dream. He’d spoken to Desire previously, who warned him that his lover may not be happy about his interruption on this particular night; apparently whatever she was dreaming of was a very strong desire of hers – one she feared would never come to pass.

Erik immediately realized what it was. A normal life. Leliana sat in an opulent garden in an Orlesian city – not Val Royeaux. Likely Val Chevin, near where the Valence cloister was. A book was in her hands, three nugs nestled around her and a dog at her feet. The sun was rising in the distance, shining over the docks in the distance and transforming her red hair into a halo of fire. Erik merely observed the scene for a moment, utterly transfixed as a sense of peace washed over him. Slowly, he approached from behind her. He wrapped his hands around her stomach and placed a gentle kiss into the crook of her neck. She let out a throaty hum and ran her hand along his ear; he took a deep breath of her scent, her intoxicating aroma of incense and sugared roses filling his mind.

“You’re up early,” she said with a smile in her voice. Erik chuckled at her unaware mind and traced his thumb along her ribs.

“We’re in the Fade, my little songbird,” he informed her gently as he pulled back from her neck, “It’s me.”

He watched her eyes focus and a wave of clarity wash over her face. She blinked once and glanced around in a brief moment of panic before her eyes settled back on him. He sat next to her on the bench as she threw her arms around him.

“Thank the Maker,” she breathed in relief, “I know you warned me that you’d be traveling through the eluvian, but…”

“I know,” he said, “It couldn’t have been easy.”

“I was a nervous wreck,” she laughed, “I didn’t show it, of course. I have an appearance to keep up.”

He let out a hum. “Keep up appearances for everyone else all you want,” he teased, “I already know you’re soft as down feathers on the inside.”

Her brow furrowed and she crossed her arms. “I am not. Take that back.”

Erik grinned widely. “No. You’re adorable when you pout.”

Leliana swatted him on the arm. “Sometimes I wonder if you enjoy antagonizing me.”

“It’s a game I’ve developed,” he shrugged, “I like to see how long it takes to get an emotional reaction out of you.” She hummed and sidled up next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It seems to me you’re getting better at it each day,” she smiled. Erik wrapped his arm around her midsection as they lapsed into silence, watching the sunrise for some time. They basked in each other’s presence, each of them wishing the Fade did not separate them. Eventually, Leliana spoke once more.

“The battle ended in the afternoon,” she said quietly, “We’ve won.”

“How many did the Inquisition lose?”

“Fewer than a thousand. The Red Templars are all but destroyed,” she paused and studied Erik for a moment, “Cullen was not happy you killed Samson.”

“Don’t care. He was in the way,” Erik dismissed casually, “We had to get to the Well before Abelas destroyed it.”

“Abelas?”

“An ancient elf bound to the service of Mythal,” he tried to explain, “He was… ah, fuck, I’ll explain it later.”

“Please do. Whatever happened at the Well, it seems important,” she said curtly.

“So we won, Cullen’s salty I capped Samson… what else happened? How’s Vivienne’s condition?”

“She will live,” Leliana sighed heavily, “Iron Bull, Cole, and Sera brought her to the healers in time…”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” he said after another bout of tense silence.

“She contracted the Blight from the Red Lyrium that was lodged in her when the Behemoth struck,” she said wearily, “Warden-Constable Howe has informed us her only hope of survival is the Joining.”

Erik frowned in confusion. “The Cure Aedan discovered won’t work?”

Leliana shook her head. “Warden Velanna explained that the Cure only works on those who survived the Joining, and even then only when the Taint has been in the Warden’s body for more than two years. Something about the way the body combats the Blight sickness.”

“The immune system takes time to build an immunity to the Blight,” Erik hypothesized, “It’s like a vaccine back on Earth.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she shrugged, “Either way, you need to speak with Aedan about acquiring whatever materials needed for the Joining from Vigil’s Keep.”

“I’ll let him know,” Erik nodded.

“Let the Inquisitor know, as well.”

Erik grimaced. “That’s… actually something I need to speak with you about.”

She twisted toward him, a frown on her face. He knew she could tell something had happened. He tossed the subject over in his mind once or twice before speaking again.

“I’m not going to be with the Inquisition any longer.”

She pulled away from him, and his arm fell limp on the bench. Leliana gazed at him in shock, and he felt himself wilting beneath her stare.

“Why?”

“Though we can kill him, Corypheus is functionally immortal,” he sighed, “And I forgot to tell Evelyn. It led to the last secret I have that I’ve yet to tell you all. She said some pretty horrible things to me.”

“Erik, you’re a trained killer. I doubt some words would–”

“She accused me of acting out a power fantasy to fulfill an inferiority complex.”

Leliana stopped speaking and stared at him. Erik stared toward the sun, unable to meet his lover’s eyes. The quiet dragged on and on, neither of them making a move.

“Oh.”

“I won’t serve under a leader that accuses me of that. Not when she knows it’s categorically false.”

“So what was your plan? Leave while Corypheus is still alive?” she asked in an incredulous tone, “Erik, you know I can’t leave the Inquisition now. And Evelyn has grown to rely on you in the field.”

“She’ll do fine without me,” he shrugged, “I’ve always said that. I never needed to be here to prevent Corypheus from succeeding.”

“That was _before_ you came to Thedas,” she argued, “That was whatever story you were told, where you weren’t involved and we didn’t know who you were. But you’re here now. You’re involved on more than a surface level. You helped found the Inquisition. The woman in charge calls you her brother, and you and I are committed to one another. By your own count, you’ve spent more time in this world and the Fade than you did on Earth.”

“It’s not that simple,” he sighed, still not looking at her. She stood and forced herself into his field of view, crossing her arms and gazing down at him.

“It is that simple,” she snapped, “You are a being of will made flesh. I don’t see that right now. I see a man overreacting to a fight between siblings.”

“See this through to the end. Stop worrying about the future, or what she said to you, or whether she meant it or simply aimed to anger you. Help Evelyn stop Corypheus so you and I may find some peace, because I cannot leave until it is done, either.”

He said nothing and gazed past Leliana’s legs. He knew she was right, but if he was being honest with himself, his pride was in the way. Leliana bent at the waist and gripped his chin between her thumb and forefinger, bringing his head upward so their eyes could meet. Her stare was filled with sympathy yet was unyielding in its intensity.

“I understand you have struggled with your own mind, and I understand what Evelyn said to you was an insult to how far you have come in that regard,” she said gently, “And I love you all the more for it. But Erik Baldr Andersen, you need to get over yourself. Be the man I know you can be and allow what the Inquisitor said to you to wash over you. She may have been able to succeed had you never come to this world, but your absence now would be a blow she would never recover from. I know you still care about her, so be the bigger person and move on.”

He didn’t respond for a minute, electing to think about what she’d said. Eventually, he gave a small smile, which Leliana returned. She leaned in and planted a kiss on his brow before sitting next to him once more and drawing herself as close as she could to him. He willed a thick blanket to materialize, covering them both as they drew themselves even closer.

“I’ll talk to Evelyn when I wake up,” Erik said. Leliana nodded and rested her head against his.

“Make sure that isn’t too soon,” she hummed, “I want you to myself for a while.”

Erik made sure to oblige her.

* * *

She couldn’t focus on anything in front of her. There were thousands of little voices in her head, all whispering about different things. Dark things. All of them were speaking Elvhen. What terrified Evelyn the most, however, was that she understood all of them. She could hear what they were saying to her, comprehend the ancient secrets that snaked their way into her mind like water trickling down a rock. She understood now why Erik didn’t want her to drink from the Well of Sorrows; she feared she would go insane if she didn’t learn how to shut the voices out, and quickly.

And there was another problem, too. No one had seen Erik at all. She had asked earlier that day, but no one seemed to know where the enigmatic man had gone. She feared that her outburst and unjust words had already driven him away from the Inquisition, that he and Leliana had agreed to meet somewhere and settle at her estate in Orlais or somewhere in the Free Marches or Ferelden. If that was the case, he could have at least had the courtesy to say farewell and inform her of the resolution of the battle. Evelyn secretly prayed he didn’t leave; though he may have claimed they could handle Corypheus without him, he had been at her side since the Conclave. His presence alone had changed things from what he knew. She couldn’t imagine facing down the Elder One without him, nor did she want to imagine it. She sighed and continued to stare aimlessly at the paperwork before her.

A knock came at her door. Her head jerked up and the voices grew silent at her sudden focus. She placed her pen back in the inkwell and wiped her fingers free of excess ink.

“Enter,” she called. The door creaked open and Erik climbed the stairs, his blue, spirit-like eyes emotionless as he scanned the room. Her heart stopped briefly as soon as she recognized him, but she kept herself composed. He approached her desk and sat in the open chair in front of it without a word, his eyes unblinking and his body unnaturally still as he studied her. Neither surrogate sibling said a word to the other for several minutes. Evelyn decided she should be the one to break the silence.

“No one could find you earlier,” she commented. Erik’s face twisted in frustration and he leaned back in the chair.

“So now I’m a child that needs supervision?” he asked coolly, “I had something personal I needed to take care of.”

“That being?”

“Something that’s personal,” he repeated, “Meaning you can stay the fuck out of it.”

Evelyn sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Erik, if it had to do with the Inquisition or the future…”

“What part of ‘stay the fuck out of it’ did you not understand?” he asked, his voice all too calm, “Maybe Leliana was wrong. This is clearly a waste of time; I’ll have to talk to her again tonight.”

“Wait,” she said as he began to stand, “I’m sorry. Please, sit. Tell me whatever you came to tell me.”

He sat back down and studied her intensely. Once, she would have squirmed under his gaze, but not now. She had seen too much, done too many things, to be intimidated by him except in the most extreme of circumstances.

“Let me make one thing crystal clear for you,” he began, “I am a free man. What I do and my own personal affairs are not your business. If you have a problem with that, I can always end my ties with the Inquisition here and now.”

“I thought you’d already made that decision.”

“Leliana… showed me another side of things,” he said slowly, “I will stay as long as she stays, but no longer.”

“And your foreknowledge?”

“Is that all you really care about?” he snapped, his patience clearly gone, “You nearly lost the aid of a man you like to call your brother, and all you can think of is what he can offer your organization?”

Evelyn didn’t know how to respond to that. “I–”

“If I’m to stay here, it will be under a few conditions,” he grated out, “If that’s _amenable_ to you.”

“That depends,” she said, irritated by his tone, “Let’s hear your conditions.”

“Firstly, you won’t ask me for any of my knowledge of the future,” he said, “I will give that to you when the time is right and not a moment sooner.”

“Fine,” she shrugged, “Aedan already came here to assure me that you made the right decision when it came to whatever secret you’re harboring.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “So you couldn’t just trust me? I have told all of you from the first day I was with the Inquisition that I wouldn’t give my knowledge until the time is right. If I forget about things, I forget about things,” he tapped the side of his head, “I have twelve hundred years of memories and trauma rattling around in here. If I don’t tell you something, it’s likely because I forgot, and not because I’m doing it out of malice. And remember that you wouldn’t have known anything at all had I never come to Thedas.”

Evelyn shrugged. “That’s agreeable. Is there anything else?”

“Leliana and I are going on leave when we get back,” Erik said, “This is non-negotiable.”

She blinked and leaned back slightly. “Erik, Corypheus is still out there. Based on what you said and what I’ve seen, he can’t be killed as he is now. I can’t afford having both of you leaving while he’s still alive.”

“I don’t care. There’s one final piece you need to deal with, and while you’re off grabbing that, I’m going to be with Leliana on a vacation.”

Evelyn grunted. “Fine. It’s clear you can’t be swayed, so I’ll say you can have a couple weeks off. Anything else?”

“No,” Erik hummed calmly, “But there’s a couple things you should know.”

“Those things being?” she frowned warily.

“Well, we won the battle, first of all,” he explained, “Cullen is okay. But Vivienne contracted the Blight.”

Evelyn felt her heart drop. “Oh, Maker. Is she…?”

“I’ve already spoken with Aedan. King Alistair is on his way with the materials required for the Joining, on Aedan’s request. Thom Rainier and Vivienne will go through the ritual.”

“Here? Are we to watch?”

“That’s a matter between yourself and Aedan,” Erik shrugged, “I won’t be there. The song the Blight sings makes me uncomfortable.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“It’s a spirit thing,” he waved off, “The Blight doesn’t affect us, but it makes us feel funny.”

Evelyn frowned at that. He’d never voiced his thoughts on that before. It was odd that he was doing it now. Perhaps it was because he was less concerned with what others thought of him after their spat, or after whatever Leliana had said to him.

“Well, that’s it, then,” Erik said, drumming his palms on the arms of the chair, “I’m going to go work out.”

Evelyn blinked and realized she hadn’t said anything for several minutes. The voices had begun their whispering again.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” she nodded absentmindedly. Erik frowned at her.

“You’re hearing voices, aren’t you?” he asked slowly. She nodded.

“Don’t ignore them. Listen. If they’re talking, they’ve got something to tell you,” he advised as he stood. He gave one final nod to her and began to leave.

“Erik,” she called. He stopped and turned back around, his eyebrow raised but his eyes still cold.

“I apologize for what I said in the Wilds,” she said with confidence, “It was wrong of me to accuse you of that. I know you aren’t doing this for power.”

Erik shook his head. “Oh, I’m doing it for power. The power just isn’t for me alone,” he paused, “But I appreciate the apology nonetheless.”

He left without another word, and Evelyn decided to heed Erik’s advice. She shucked her boots off and tossed herself on her bed as she closed her eyes and prepared for whatever the voices had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for And Then There Was Silence by Blind Guardian - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HcRIGCmCoZA
> 
> Edit: I have a question for those still with me. I have plans for The Descent, Jaws of Hakkon, and Trespasser, but would you like to see these characters and this story carried into a DA4 story when it’s released? Or does this shit suck now, like I fear? Voice y’all’s opinions in the comments. Free reign; no matter what you say about the story, it’s truly impossible for me to get offended.


	57. Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Alistair brings the equivalent of radioactive material to Skyhold. Aedan makes people drink blood. Leliana gets a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter. Not sure how I feel about this one.
> 
> Any dialogue and characters found in the games belong to Bioware/EA. I just goof around with it.

A week passed quickly. The bond between Evelyn and Erik slowly repaired itself, though Aedan suspected it would never quite be the same. There was a belief in the back of Erik’s mind that Evelyn did not trust him, and it was something that he could not tolerate at this stage in his service to the Inquisition. Aedan knew how he felt; the fact that Weisshaupt did not trust him was a constant stain on his relationship with the rest of the Order; Arl Teagan’s growing paranoia was a growing point of tension within their friendship, as well, especially after it had become public knowledge that he and Morrigan were wed. Teagan had never quite gotten over what had happened at Redcliffe during the Blight. The fact that after the Circles of Magi broke, apostate was openly known as the Arlessa of Amaranthine was too much for him to bear.

His subjects in the Arling were rather more receptive when he revealed he’d been married to his witch for nearly eight years, though he suspected they would have been much less so had he let Amaranthine burn during the Darkspawn Civil War. His people trusted him – though the other nobles of the Bannorn and Arlings trusted him decidedly less, for a number of reasons. He was the king’s best friends, firstly, and a brother in all but blood. Even their blood they shared, through the Taint that coursed through both their veins. That, and each of them wanted to marry off one of their own relatives to him in a political alliance. The fact that he had chosen to marry a half-Chasind mage that dressed as though she were still living in the wilds was appalling to them. That was when he concluded that for all their bemoaning, Fereldan nobles were largely no different than Orlesians. They just looked down their noses at different groups.

He blinked and thought about where he was going with that line of thought, then realized it had to do with the Joining he was about to conduct. There were only two, this time – Thom Rainier and Vivienne de Fer, and he had no idea whether either of them would survive the Joining. He hoped they did, despite Morrigan’s barbed words about Vivienne. Pragmatically, both would be powerful additions to his chapter of the Wardens. And he _would_ be keeping both of them. Orlais may have had a base claim to them both due to their previous allegiances, but those allegiances vanished once a recruit drank that blood. Plus, the Orlesian Wardens had no Warden-Commander to fight for either of them, at the moment. Only Nathaniel, who would almost certainly side with him.

He glanced back down at the message from the Fereldan Crown. The message said that Alistair was arriving the following day – one day prior. As was Anora, who was briefly taking over her husband’s political duties briefly so that he may do Warden things. Aedan brushed that bit off; he wasn’t the Inquisitor, so it wasn’t his problem. It was the Joining and Alistair’s subsequent Cure that he needed to worry about. That, and the disturbing personal letter he’d received from his royal friend.

Weisshaupt had gone completely silent. No contact with the other branches of the Order, no contact with the Anderfel Crown, no contact with other Royal stations in other nations. And there was no warning, either – they had simply ceased contact. Which meant the south was on its own. Not that they weren’t mostly on their own, anyways. Weisshaupt’s influence had slowly been decreasing, but they were still key if a Blight reached its full stride. His Blight was a unique situation. The other branches of the Order were halfway through preparations when he stabbed Urthemiel to death. But if there was another Blight, and someone like him didn’t rally people fast enough to kill the Archdemon before it left its starting region, Weisshaupt would be needed dearly. The fact that it had fallen silent was a dark omen.

And it brought with it another problem – the entirety of the Southern Wardens would be turning to him for leadership, with Clarel dead. That meant Orlais and the Free Marches on top of already running Ferelden and hunting down half a dozen Broodmothers a year. He was not mentally prepared to be thrust into the position of “First Warden of the South” if each branch’s yearly reports went unanswered. And he knew that would happen. His actions had made him the stuff of legend to everyone from the Kocari Wilds to Par Vollen, whether he liked it or not. That meant people turned to him for leadership, which he hated.

The unceremonious opening of the bedroom door pulled him from his musings. Morrigan swept into the room, likely finished with tutoring Kieran for the day. She walked toward him and he leaned back to plant a quick kiss on her lips, which she returned without hesitation. Then she crossed her arms and huffed.

“The fool has arrived,” she said simply, “His colors were just now spotted in the valley.”

Aedan sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “When did the Inquisitor say the army was returning?”

“’Twill be some time before the full host returns,” she said, “The men are exhausted, many are injured, and their return journey will be twice as long as the march. They will rest in the Wilds for some two weeks before returning.”

“Vivienne will die if they wait that long,” Aedan argued. Morrigan simply put her hand up.

“Lady Trevelyan’s Inner Circle returns on the morrow with a forward battalion of soldiers. Commander Cullen is apparently not convinced by Erik’s personal confirmation that we are all safe – or, more specifically, the Inquisitor.”

Aedan relaxed. “How long until Alistair has arrived?”

His question was answered by a ringing bell. Husband and wife both glanced out their window to see commotion in the courtyard from the few servants and soldiers that remained in Skyhold. Aedan stood and straightened his shirt.

“Never mind.”

He descended the stairs to the ground floor of their suite and knocked on Kieran’s door and opened it after a moment. Rabbit propped his head up from where it rested on Kieran’s lap as his boy read a thick tome on his bed; Aedan didn’t have the heart to tell Rabbit to get off from the mattress.

“Hey, little man,” he said in a warm tone, “Want to go say hello to Uncle Alistair?”

Kieran glanced up from the book, his eyes slightly unfocused. He frowned slightly.

“After you get rid of the blood he brought with him,” Kieran said, “I don’t want to be around that. Neither does He.”

Aedan quickly understood what he meant. Of course, the Archdemon blood would make Kieran uncomfortable. It once coursed through the veins of the entity living within his body. Urthemiel clearly wouldn’t be comfortable with it, either. He merely nodded understandably and gave his son a small smile, fighting desperately to ignore the crippling regret he had for what he did to his poor son.

“I’ll come find you when we put it away,” he smiled, closing the door as he left. He turned around to see Morrigan watching him.

“He refused to come?” she asked quietly. Aedan nodded.

“He doesn’t want to be around the Archdemon blood.”

Morrigan sighed. “It seems our decision even haunts the little things in his life. I know Erik said it’ll be removed from him soon, but–”

“Wait, what?” he asked in shock. Morrigan frowned at him curiously.

“He did not tell you?”

“No,” Aedan shook his head, “But now I have a conversation to have with that man.”

* * *

Evelyn climbed down the stairs to meet King Alistair and his entourage. Erik and Aedan trotted past her, frantically rushing toward the King’s carriage.

“Clear the entire courtyard,” Aedan said as he passed. Evelyn blinked at them in confusion.

“What? Why?”

“King Alistair brought gallons of Archdemon blood with him,” Erik called back.

“Unless you want everyone vomiting uncontrollably when we pull it out, clear the courtyard,” Aedan continued. Evelyn froze in surprise. She doubted the blood could be _that_ bad, but if the Warden-Commander of Ferelden said it would be that bad, she was inclined to listen. She turned toward a passing soldier that had been stationed at Skyhold before the march and stopped him.

“Get as many soldiers as you can and clear the courtyard. Both of them,” she ordered, “Do it as fast as you can.”

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he saluted before running off and barking orders like he knew what was going on. Evelyn took a shaky breath and continued down the steps. She approached the King and Queen of Ferelden confidently.

“King Alistair, Queen Anora,” she greeted, “I would like to–”

“Greetings can come later,” the king snapped, “Anora, love, go get some fresh air. Aedan, help me with this fucking thing before all my soldiers die.”

Evelyn watched as Anora stumbled away from the carriage with a weak nod, pale as a sheet of paper and with a slight green hue to her cheeks.

“On it,” Aedan nodded, “Erik! Could use some help. It’ll go easier with three.”

“Aedan, he could catch–”

“I’m a spirit, Your Grace,” Erik stopped the king, “I’m immune.”

“Oh,” Alistair blinked, “Well, in that case, yes, we could use some help moving the most dangerous thing in the world.”

Erik nodded. “Where do you need me?”

“It’s in the back of the carriage,” Alistair led the other two men around the buggy, “Couldn’t trust it with the entourage.”

“Makes sense. How heavy are we talking?”

“Several hundred pounds,” Aedan said as he moved into place, “It’s about ten gallons of the stuff, and it’s in a case that’s lined with three inches of lead on either side. Add the chain and lock, and it’s–”

“The thing is heavy,” Alistair sighed, “And with no other Wardens around, I had to drag it out of Vigil’s Keep myself. Took me hours.”

“Right,” her brother sighed, “Let’s get this over with.”

“We need to get it out the instant we open this hatch, or people will get sick,” Aedan said, “On three. One. Two. Three.”

They threw open the hatch, and Evelyn was immediately hit with a wave of nausea unlike any she had ever felt in her life. She doubled over and caught herself on the carriage, her throat moving in rippling waves as she gagged and gagged and gagged. The Fereldan soldiers in the area fared no better, and neither did the horses, who immediately began to scream and stomp in place. The three immune men yanked it out with a grunt, with Erik taking the front, Aedan taking the back, and King Alistair hefting it from the sides.

“Alright. Up two flights of stairs and down one,” Aedan grunted, “Let’s go. Inquisitor, clear the way for us.”

Evelyn forced herself upright and nodded. She shakily climbed the staircase and led the three grunting men up through the courtyards. Two soldiers actually vomited as the Archdemon blood passed, and Evelyn wouldn’t be far behind if they didn’t get it to the dusty library in the basement soon enough.

“Maker, what in the world _is_ that?” one man said between gags.

“Don’t fucking worry about it,” Erik snapped back, his voice straining with grit at carrying the immensely heavy load. Evelyn stumbled up the last flight into the castle and leaned against the archway. She glanced across the main hall and gagged once more.

“If you don’t want to vomit, leave the hall immediately,” she called to the mingling nobles and servants.

But it was too late. The three men came hobbling in, carrying with them death itself in their hands. Several yelps echoed over the stone as everyone in the area scurried away from the massive box and the men carrying it. They waddled their way toward Josephine’s vacant office and the War Room and immediately turned left down the stairs, taking the flight slowly so Erik didn’t get crushed. Eventually they made it to the tiny, cobwebbed library holding the massive, illegible tome, and they placed it down gently. The three men heaved heavy sighs and leaned against the dusty shelves in exhaustion as Evelyn stood outside the room.

“Maker, what the fuck is the point of that box if it still does _that_?” she asked weakly. Aedan glanced at her and pulled his hair out of his face.

“Inquisitor, if I opened this box, you would pass out.”

“Then why didn’t you just bring enough for the Joining?” she heaved. Alistair blinked and glanced at Aedan.

“How does she know about–”

“Long story,” The Warden sighed before turning back to her, “Because there’s only one key for this lock, and it’s impossible to pick. And I’ve had the key since I left to find the Cure to the Calling.”

“Speaking of,” Alistair hummed, “Does it work?”

“My friend, it works beautifully. I’ll have Velanna administer it to you and Howe when they return tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Alistair sighed, “Maybe I can get the Bannorn off my back about an heir to the throne. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting away from the Archdemon blood. It’s starting to talk to me.”

“It’s just giving me a headache,” Erik huffed as he pulled himself off the wall, “But I do feel dirty now.”

Evelyn shut the door immediately after the three men cleared the threshold of the old library. She locked the door and moved as far as she could from the foul substance sitting in the basement.

She awoke to the ringing of bells and the shouting of servants and soldiers. As she slowly came to, she realized that it could only mean the Inner Circle and the forward battalion were back. The remainder of her drowsiness was quickly sapped from her body and she threw herself out of bed and toward her dresser. A knock came at her door as she stomped into her boots; she grunted in frustration.

“I know,” she shouted, “Give me a minute.”

“Ev, they’re doing the Joining _now_ ,” Erik called as he took the stairs two at a time, “Vivienne is in critical condition.”

“Her injuries?” she asked while combing the knots from her hair. Erik shook his head.

“Her wounds are healed, it’s the Blight,” he reminded her, “If they don’t get her through the Joining soon, she’s dead.”

She nodded and tossed her brother the key to the War Room. “Let Aedan know he can use the War Room for the Joining. I need to speak with Cullen.”

“More like ‘I want to make sure Cullen is okay’,” he scoffed, “I’ll come find you when the Joining ritual is done.”

She threw a cloak around her shoulders and descended the stairs with Erik. “Please do. Even if they survive, they’re still with us until Corypheus is dead. I want to know if I’m down two friends and fighters for when we have to confront him.”

Erik nodded and made a sharp turn into his and Leliana’s rooms while Evelyn continued down the stairs, butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing Cullen again.

* * *

“Get her to the War Room,” Aedan barked, “The Inquisitor has given us permission to use it for the Joining. Velanna, come with me. We must prepare the ritual.”

Velanna nodded. “We have everything we need?”

“Yes, though I’d rather prefer to have the recruits retrieve the Darkspawn blood themselves,” he muttered as they descended the stairs, “I understand why we can’t but…”

“I say it’s fine to break tradition this once, Aedan,” she huffed as they unlocked and pushed the door open, “You did it for Bethany, too.”

“Bethany caught the Blight fighting Darkspawn,” he argued as he knelt to unlock the chest.

“And Vivienne caught it fighting Tainted creatures, as well,” Velanna shrugged, “And Rainier has proven himself already.”

“I know.” The lock came loose and Aedan pushed the heavy lid back with a grunt. There sat all the ingredients needed for the Joining concoction. The inside of the chest was lined with crushed velvet, dyed blue to match the Grey Wardens’ colors. In one corner sat the silverite Joining chalice, engraved with the griffons of the Wardens. The same chalice he drank from, and Alistair drank from, and all his Wardens drank from. He grabbed it by the stem and wordlessly handed it to Velanna, who set it on the desk. Twelve finger-sized vials of Darkspawn blood sat within, and he grabbed two, tossing them to Velanna, who poured one into the chalice. Another went into a pitcher also within the chest. The lyrium came next. Velanna grabbed that, grinding it in a mortar and pestle and pouring the refined powder into the chalice and pitcher both. The powdered mix of embrium, dawn lotus, and royal elfroot came next. It was already magically prepared, thank the Maker – the preparation took hours, which Vivienne definitely did not have. Velanna mixed the ground herbs into the separate concoctions.

Then came the final ingredient, and the most dangerous. Aedan grabbed one end of the heavy glass bottle that took up most of the space in the chest, while Velanna grabbed the other. Together, they hefted the massive bottle out of the chest and set it gently on the table. The blood within was pitch black – blacker than anything else he’d ever seen, as though it ate the light around it, and even with the Cure, he could feel the Taint roll off it in a constant stream. Aedan took a deep breath and uncorked it, grabbing the device Avernus had created, something called a ‘pipette’. He stuck the end in the bottle and withdrew a small amount of the Archdemon’s blood. By tradition, only the Warden-Commander placed the Archdemon’s blood in the Joining potion. He placed a single drop in both servings of the concoction and returned the pipette and Archdemon blood to the chest before locking it back up.

“Has anyone volunteered to say the words?” he asked Velanna as he grabbed the chalice. She nodded and grabbed the pitcher.

“Nathaniel,” she said as they left the library, “He was watching over Vivienne after the battle, so it only makes sense he would be the one to say the words.”

“Right, then,” he said with a heavy sigh, “Let’s get these two through the Joining.”

“And pray neither of them die,” Velanna added just before they entered the War Room.

Both recruits sat at the table, flanked by the other three of his Wardens. Rainier’s face was steely and strong, though he could see the apprehension in his eyes. Vivienne, on the other hand, looked awful. Her skin was beginning to turn grey, her veins on her neck and face already blackening. Her breath rattled in her chest. Her once brown eyes were beginning to grow milky, and it was obvious she did not make it to the chair she sat in by herself.

“We come to the Joining,” he said, reciting the words he had spoken nearly a dozen times as he set the chalice on the table, “The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when the world stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of Darkspawn blood and mastered the Taint. We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but they have been said since the First.”

Aedan turned to Howe. “Nathaniel, if you would?”

Nathaniel clasped his hands before him and bowed his head, the rest of the Grey Wardens in the room doing the same.

“Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten… and that one day, we shall join you.”

Aedan grabbed the Joining chalice with both hands and turned to Rainier. “Thom Rainier, step forward. You are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint for the greater good.”

Rainier stood and swallowed thickly. With a slightly trembling hand, he grabbed the chalice and brought it to his lips. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he brought the silverite to his lips. In one smooth motion, he drank the concoction down and handed the goblet back to Aedan. One second passed, then two. Suddenly, Rainier’s eyes rolled back and he took a shuddering gasp. Sigrun was there to catch him as he toppled backward, and the dwarf gently laid him down on the stones. She brought her fingers to his neck and looked up at Aedan with a nod.

“He will live.”

Velanna refilled the chalice and handed it to Aedan, who stepped over to where Vivienne sat. The mage glanced at him with resignation in her eyes.

“Vivienne de Fer, you are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint for the greater good,” he said gently. Vivienne weakly gripped the chalice, and Aedan helped her bring it to her lips. She slowly drank the concoction down, and he took the goblet from her. Instantly, her eyes rolled back into her head like Rainier’s did, and she took a quick gasp. The blackened veins retreated slightly, and Vivienne breathed a sigh of relief before her head slumped forward in her chair. Oghren approached and placed his fingers on her neck.

“She’s fine,” he grunted, “Further along than Bethany was when she drank. I give it a couple days before she wakes.”

Aedan nodded and handed the key to the chest to Howe. “Go with Velanna and return the chalice. I’ll have some healers bring these two to their beds and let the Inquisitor know they survived.”

“Will do. Anything else?” Howe asked.

“Once you’re done, return here, both of you. I need to find Alistair. You and he need to undergo the Cure.”

* * *

Erik was waiting for Leliana in their living room. The ring he had purchased a week prior was sitting in his coat pocket, encased in a small, cherry box. But that could wait for their little retreat. He needed to speak to his lover, first, namely about the vacation and the letter on his desk.

The door opened, and she stepped in. Erik stood immediately and felt relief wash over him at once as he made his way toward her. He wrapped his arms around her and moved for her lips; she immediately pulled back.

“I haven’t bathed in two weeks,” she protested. Erik raised an eyebrow at her.

“When have I ever cared about that?” he asked in a playful tone. She gave a hum and rolled her eyes.

“Fine.” Erik gave her a strong, loving kiss and pulled her to his chest.

“I missed you,” he said, “Seeing you in the Fade wasn’t enough.”

“I know,” she responded, running her hands along his back, “It’s good to be back.”

“I’ve got good news and… odd news,” he murmured, “News you probably won’t like.”

“Let’s start with good news, then, since I’m in a rather good mood.”

He walked toward the desk. “I convinced Evelyn to let us go on a vacation.”

She blinked in surprise. “Now? Doesn’t she need you?”

“Not for a little while,” he shook his head, “She needs to find something to counter Corypheus, and I don’t necessarily need to be there for it.”

“I see,” Leliana crossed her arms, “When would we leave?”

“Two days. I have passage booked from Jader to Val Chevin, if you’re willing to go.”

“Just the two of us?” she laced her fingers between his, “I think I can manage that.”

Erik bit his lip. “There’s… another reason I chose Val Chevin, to be honest.”

“Oh?”

Erik took a shaky breath and reached for the letter on his desk. He took it in his free hand and glanced at the Orlesian lettering on the front.

“A letter came for you while we were gone,” he said as he handed it to her.

“A letter? Do you know who–” she froze as she recognized the handwriting. Erik let out a sympathetic breath.

“It’s from Divine Justinia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Ritual by Ghost - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PakoE1eBps
> 
> I totally made up the ingredients to the Joining potion. All we know is that it's Darkspawn blood, lyrium, herbs, and a drop of Archdemon blood, so I chose some random herbs found in the series.


	58. When a Demon Defiles a Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan confronts Flemeth. Aedan shits bricks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much easier to write this one.
> 
> Any dialogue from the games (and there's a lot of it in this chapter) is owned by Bioware/EA, as are any of the characters from Dragon Age.
> 
> This fic is now longer than A Clash of Kings. Fuck me sideways.

Aedan confronted Erik about what his wife had said the following day. He found the spirit-born man packing a small chest with clothes, both his and Leliana’s. He suddenly remembered that Erik was planning on bringing Leliana on a vacation when she returned, and it seemed he was going to live up to his word. Aedan knocked on the doorframe, and Erik glanced up briefly before returning to his task.

“Packing already?” Aedan asked curiously. Erik merely nodded as he folded one of Leliana’s blouses.

“We leave tomorrow. I always panic the day I leave for a trip, so I figured I’d give myself some room to breathe this time,” the offworlder responded. Aedan noted how his voice hadn’t changed from the odd doubling effect it had, though it seemed to grow and wane depending on what he was doing.

“Is there any reason why you’re going to Val Chevin?” he asked. Erik merely shrugged.

“Leliana has good memories of that place. It’s where Justinia held sermon at the Valence Cloister when she was simply Revered Mother Dorothea. Plus, there’s something personal that’s going to happen there, and I want to make sure I’m there for her when it happens,” he explained, “Two birds with one stone, right?”

“That’s not the only reason,” Aedan hummed, noticing the small box on the bed. Erik froze and followed Aedan’s line of sight. He sighed.

“You got me,” he nodded, “I’m going to propose to her after we handle her personal situation.”

“I’m not going to question your motives,” The Warden said, “I’ve already spoken with Josephine. If she trusts you, I trust you. Break her heart, however–”

“Yeah, you’ll cut my balls off and feed them to an Ogre. Tracking.”

Aedan let out a laugh. “I’m glad we have an understanding.”

Erik finished his packing and slid the small box into a coat pocket. He gestured for Aedan to enter the apartment, and he obliged.

“Curiosity about my love life isn’t the only reason you came up here,” Erik deduced. Aedan shook his head. The man was smart, he could give him that.

“I wanted to talk to you about my son,” he confirmed. Erik raised an eyebrow.

“What about him?”

“How much do you know about him?”

“I know how he was conceived. And why. And about the passenger he’s got with him,” Erik said carefully. Aedan felt a flash of protective fury blink through him.

“If you do anything to him…”

“Why would I? He’s a kid. Mostly harmless.”

“Mostly?”

As if on cue, the door swung open. Leliana flew into the room in a frenzy, her eyes wide.

“Erik, have you seen–” she froze as she realized Aedan was in the room, “Oh thank the Maker.”

“What is it? Leliana, what’s going on?” he asked, his nerves beginning to jump at her frantic entrance.

“Morrigan chased after Kieran through the eluvian. She was terrified,” she explained quickly, her accent more pronounced with the stress.

Aedan froze. If something happened to his boy… “What do you mean she was _chasing_ Kieran?”

“She said _he_ activated the mirror somehow, and then she ran into it. I've never seen Morrigan like that. Not ever. Not even when you–”

“Is the mirror still open?” Aedan asked in a panic. How could Kieran open the eluvian? Was it Urthemiel? Or something else? And why would he even do that in the first place?

“The last I knew, yes,” she nodded, glancing at Erik when a clacking noise filled the room, “Erik, no. You aren’t going in with Aedan.”

“This isn’t for me,” Erik shook his head as he checked over the weapon. He thrust it into Aedan’s hands and grabbed the belt he wore into combat.

“Four rules of firearm safety you need to know,” Erik babbled as he threw the belt around Aedan’s waist, “Always point the gun in a safe direction, always treat it as if it’s loaded, keep your finger off the trigger before you’re ready to shoot, and never point your weapon at anything you don’t intend to destroy. That small lever on the left side releases the bolt when you put a new magazine in, this switch here goes from safe to fire.”

“You’re giving this to me?” Aedan asked in shock, “Now?”

“I’m letting you use it,” Erik corrected, “Flemeth will be there. She will make a proposition. If Morrigan attempts to attack her, stop her or Flemeth may do more than make a proposition. Let Morrigan make the decision. If push comes to shove, put an entire magazine in Flemeth. Go. Protect your family.”

It was all Aedan needed to hear. He bolted down the stairs, holding the rifle the way Erik did in between fights, the four rules he had just enlightened him with playing on repeat in his mind as he darted for the garden and the eluvian. He shoved more than one confused, oblivious noble out of the way as he sprinted for the small chamber that held the blasted mirror and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the surface was still shimmering blue. Aedan ran forward and plunged through the portal without hesitation, prepared for the headache of the Crossroads.

He did not get the Crossroads. He got the Fade. The Raw Fade. In the flesh. Aedan froze, certain he was about to piss himself. He pushed his shock and terror down just as he did when he faced the Archdemon and ran forward, calling for his wife. His voice echoed off the wet stones, his footfalls reverberating into the sickly green sky. After running for a brief time, he came across Morrigan, who was seemingly wandering aimlessly as she shouted their son’s name into the realm of demons.

“Morrigan!” he breathed in relief as he approached her. She spun toward him, her eyes wide in shock for a brief moment. They were red and puffy, fresh tears streaming down her face and her nose wet. Her eyes momentarily filled with relief before they turned to those of a terrified mother searching for her lost child.

“Aedan,” she sobbed, closing the distance between them and gripping his forearm tightly, “You have to help me. We must find Kieran before it's too late!"

“Morrigan. Sweetheart. I need you to calm down,” he said as he slung Erik’s rifle and gently grabbed her shoulders, “What exactly happened?”

“He… he was just reading. Then he stood and… it wasn’t his voice. You know how he gets. He told me… he had to go, and then he went for the… eluvian. He activated it. I expected to come to the Crossroads, but…” she explained in broken sentences, her voice completely frantic.

“Why would Kieran do this?” she continued her terrified rant, “ _How_ could he do this. We stand in the Fade. Physically. To direct the eluvian here would require immense power.”

“We’ll find him,” Aedan reassured her, determined to remain calm in what was a petrifying situation.

“If he is lost to us, now after all we have sacrificed…” Morrigan shook her head.

"Hey. Sweetheart, look at me,” Aedan said firmly. Morrigan looked into his eyes as her chest shook unevenly, “We’ll find him. He can't be far."

“The Fade is infinite,” she protested in a wail, “He could _literally_ be anywhere.”

“He’s not far,” Aedan said resolutely, “You went in immediately after he did. There’s no way he’s gone.”

“Whatever happens to him now, 'tis my doing,” she said as they set out, “I set him on this path.”

“ _We_ set him on this path,” Aedan corrected, “I bear as much guilt as you. More, even.”

Morrigan sniffled and clung to his sleeve. He rubbed her shoulder in comfort and called for his son. Over, and over, and over, they called. There was no response. He began to lose hope. He knew Morrigan could tell, but he refused to show it. Minutes passed. Half an hour. Aedan took a bullet from one of the ‘magazines’ and began scratching the stones to mark their path.

“Just a little longer," Morrigan murmured, her voice exhausted but her eyes still overflowing with tears. Aedan hugged his wife tighter, preparing himself for when they found their son.

"We aren’t leaving until we have our little man," he said resolutely, “Even if it takes until the end of time.”

An hour had passed by Aedan’s estimate when they found Kieran. He was standing near an odd pond in a canyon, speaking to an old woman as she knelt and he cast a spell. Morrigan froze.

“No,” she shook her head, “No, no, no, it cannot be.”

Kieran ended the spell as he heard his mother’s voice. His eyes lit up and he gave a youthful smile.

“Mother! Father!” he chirped, even as the old woman stood and gave a small smirk. Morrigan didn’t respond to Kieran other than a protective glance. She glared at the old woman with horn-like white hair instead.

“Mother,” she hissed. Aedan remembered what Erik had warned and prepared to stop Morrigan if she tried anything.

“Now, isn't this a surprise?” Flemeth croaked, “My wayward daughter and her husband, the man who killed me. Mother, daughter, son-in-law, grandson. It rather warms the heart, does it not?”

“Kieran is _not_ your grandson,” Morrigan shouted, “Let him go!”

“As if I were holding the boy hostage,” Flemeth rolled her eyes, “Always ungrateful. That’s all you’ve ever been.”

“Ungrateful?” Morrigan balked, “I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone! You will not have me, and you will _not_ have my son!”

She started to draw in energy, but it was too much. In the flesh, the energy of the Fade was too much. Even without Erik’s warning, Aedan knew what he had to do. He gripped his wife’s forearms and brought them to the small of her back, dissipating the spell.

“What are you doing?” she asked in shock as she struggled in vain, “Let. Me. Go.”

“No. You’re going to hurt Kieran,” Aedan said calmly. Flemeth let out a small laugh.

“At least one of you has reason in their head,” she commented, “It’s rather a good thing you didn’t drink from the Well, dear daughter, or I would have done that for him.”

Morrigan stopped struggling. “So ‘tis true,” she said in shock, “He was right. You _are_ Mythal.”

“If by ‘he’, you mean your Firstborn friend, then yes,” Flemeth confirmed. Aedan tightened, prepared to defend his family as the ancient witch began to move. But she did not go to attack. She gently pressed her fingers to Kieran’s back and gave him a nod. Their son sprinted toward them, and Aedan released his wife’s wrists as they both dropped to their knees to embrace their child. Morrigan breathed a sigh of relief as they met and gripped his head protectively as Aedan wrapped his arms around the both of them. Kieran suddenly began to pull away slightly.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he said in an old, sad voice, "I heard her calling to me. She said now was the time."

Kieran returned to Flemeth, and Morrigan was powerless to stop him. She weakly reached after their son, shock and hurt equal in her eyes, even as Aedan began to panic and become confused.

"I do not understand," Morrigan stammered.

“Once I was but a woman, crying out in the lonely darkness for justice,” the god in human flesh began, “And she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice denied to her.”

“You carry Mythal inside you, then?” Aedan asked, confused, “A vessel? Like Kieran is to…”

Flemeth shook her head. “She is a part of me, no more separate than your heart from your chest. Ask your Firstborn friend, the next you see him. Or the girl that drank my Well. Either will know I speak the truth.”

"But what _was_ Mythal?” she continued, “A legend given name and called a god, or something more Truth is not the end, but a beginning. Humorous that the girl now bound to me should be called the Herald. A herald, indeed. Shouting to the heavens, harbinger of a new age."

“Why have you helped, all these times?” Aedan asked suddenly, hoping for answers, “Myself, Marian Hawke, Erik… all throughout history, you meddle and help. But always with your own motives in mind. Why?”

“I nudge history, when it is required,” Flemeth shrugged, “Other times, a _shove_ is needed."

“Please, let him go,” Morrigan said, now turning to begging. Flemeth gave a sad smile.

“Once I have what I came for.”

Morrigan blinked, and her shoulders squared as she stood in fury. “No. I will not allow it.”

“He carries a piece of what once was, snatched from the jaws of darkness,” the ancient being said calmly, “You know this.”

“He is not your pawn, mother. I will not let you use him!”

It was clear Flemeth had become irritated. Her tone began to shift. “Have you not used _him?_ Was there not your purpose, the reason you agree to his creation?”

Morrigan’s normally steely eyes softened.

"That was then. Now he… he is our _son_."

Aedan began to dissect the words Flemeth was saying. She was an ancient being, entwined with something even far more ancient, from a time taught to be fairy tale by the Chantry. Erik had shown that was wrong. Now Flemeth was showing it to be wrong, too. He quickly put the pieces together.

“Why is this important?” he demanded, “What is so key about the Old God’s soul?”

“I am not the only one carrying the soul of a being long thought lost,” Flemeth simply said, her eyes twinkling with mystery.

“He's more than that, Mother,” Morrigan snapped.

"As am I, yet do you hear me complain?” she raised an eyebrow, “Our destinies are not so easily avoided, dear girl."

Kieran, silent until then, glanced at both himself and Morrigan with sorrow. “Mother, Father, I have to.”

“You do not belong to her Kieran. Neither of us do!” his mother refuted in a pained tone.

"Whatever you think he is, Kieran is still a child. Our child!” Aedan snapped at the crone, his patience wearing thin. He knew Erik warned him, but he was prepared to confront the being once more, if she did not give them their son.

Flemeth ruffled Kieran’s hair affectionately. "And so much better behaved than his mother was at his age."

Morrigan suddenly seemed to lose her energy. She dropped to her knees as fresh tears began to fill her eyes.

"Kieran, I…" She could not finish her sentence; the words choked and died in her throat. Aedan’s stomach filled with fear and dread as he reached for the rifle’s grip. Just a minute more. Then he would open fire.

Kieran looked up at Flemeth with sadness in his eyes. It was as though the two of them had a silent conversation. Flemeth finally nodded after a moment and turned back to Morrigan and himself.

"As you wish," she said in a tired voice, "Here my proposal, dear girl. Let me take the lad, and you are free of me forever. I will never interfere with or harm you again. Or, keep the boy with you… and you will never be safe from me. I _will_ have my due."

"He returns with me. With us," Morrigan responded without hesitation. Aedan blinked and realized this was what Erik meant when he said to let Morrigan negotiate. It was hard. He didn’t want to let her do it. He wanted to protect both his son and his wife. He wanted to tell her there was another way, or not say anything at all and just shoot the crone and be done with it. But he bit his tongue and fought his ever-tensing body as his wife sold her freedom.

“Decided so quickly?” Flemeth asked in a curious, humored voice. Morrigan stood and her fists balled in rage.

“Do whatever you wish,” Morrigan’s voice broke as her arms trembled, “Take over my body now, if you must, but Kieran will be free of your clutches. I am many things, but I will _never_ be the mother you were to me.”

Her last words seemed to hurt Flemeth. She blinked in shock and a frown seemed to involuntarily creep across her lips, her eyes full of… was that regret? Aedan never expected to see her have an emotion other than calm or flippant disregard. She glanced down at Kieran and studied the boy for a moment. Aedan’s body tensed to the breaking point. Flemeth gently took Kieran’s hands and closed her eyes.

A small bundle of bluish green light pulled itself from his son’s chest. It shimmered and sang as it did so, and his son watched it go with awe, as did Aedan and Morrigan. It floated through the wrong air of the Fade and toward Flemeth, until it disappeared within the ancient witch. She gave a calm, genuine smile to their boy.

“No more dreams?” Kieran asked hopefully. Flemeth shook her head.

“No more dreams,” she reassured. She gestured toward Aedan and Morrigan, and Kieran calmly returned to them. Aedan could still feel himself wound to snap as Morrigan possessively covered Kieran with an arm.

"A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan,” her mother explained simply, “You were never in danger from me. As for the Inquisitor and her crusade… tell her that there is an altar within a shaded wood. Tell her the voices will lead the way. She must summon the dragon that is its guardian, and that has served me since the days of Arlathan. Should she master it in combat, it is hers to command against the Conductor. If she should fail, she will die.”

Morrigan blinked in confusion and opened her mouth to say something, even as Aedan felt all the tension leave his body. But Flemeth was not finished.

“And tell her interloping brother that I have taken his warning into consideration,” she added, “And that I look forward to seeing whether he has a part to play in the chaos to come.”

She turned and began to leave. Morrigan sucked in a sudden breath.

“Wait!” she called. Too late. Flemeth disappeared into the green mist of the Fade. Aedan’s family was left there, alone, mostly untouched.

“Are you all right, Kieran” Morrigan asked immediately after they stepped through the eluvian, worry clear in her voice, “You are not hurt?"

"I feel lonely," he admitted. Morrigan smiled and kissed the crown of his head as Aedan rubbed his son’s back in comfort.

“You’ll feel better in no time, little man,” he reassured, “I guarantee there are children your age playing in the garden. Make some friends. It’ll help.”

“I…” Kieran glanced at his mother in apprehension, but Morrigan merely smiled in reassurance. Kieran’s face washed with relief and he tentatively began to walk away, slowly at first, then faster, then in a run, free of a burden he should have never had to bear.

Morrigan watched him go with a small smile. Aedan wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close; she rested her head on his shoulder as she let out a breath.

“She wanted the Old God soul all along,” she murmured once Kieran disappeared through the door, “Is it worth reminding myself that perhaps I do not know everything after all? My mother has the soul of an elven goddess – or whatever 'Mythal' truly was – and her plans are known to me.”

“Does it matter?” Aedan asked, “You’re free now. Our boy is just a normal lad now. Let some other poor sod worry about what plot she spins.”

“You… may be right,” she admitted, “Kieran had a destiny, and now it's in Flemeth's hands. I suppose we shall see what she does with it.”

They remained silent for a moment, and Aedan knew she was second-guessing herself. He felt he had to say something.

“You did the right thing,” he reassured her.

“Did I? She was testing me, and I cannot tell whether I passed,” Morrigan said with worry.

“You passed,” a voice came from the door. Erik stepped in and shut the door, a look of wisdom and melancholic happiness in his eyes. Morrigan frowned next to Aedan, and then her eyes went wide with realization.

“You knew this would happen all along,” she said, a statement rather than a question. Erik nodded.

“Since I first came to Thedas and Leliana told me Aedan survived killing Urthemiel, I knew this would happen,” he confirmed, “Flemeth wasn’t lying. A soul cannot be forced upon the unwilling. It is a law as old as the world itself.”

“Then…” Aedan frowned in confusion.

“What was Flemeth’s plan?” he asked, “To gift the soul of Mythal to Morrigan. All its knowledge, all its power… and all its scorn. She was testing you, Morrigan, but there was no right answer. You chose to be a mother, and not a vengeful god.”

“How do you know this?” she pressed with suspicion.

“You had a sister, you know,” he said, “An older sister, living in the Tellari Swamps in Antiva. Yavana. She was tested similarly to you. She failed. Became too power-hungry. Too obsessed with the Great Dragons, long gone from this world. Alistair was forced to kill her. Flemeth was looking for a host to pass on the soul of Mythal to. Now, she must find a different host, outside her daughters.”

“She said that she’d listened to your warning,” Aedan recalled, “That had to be when you met her in the Fade. What did you warn her of?”

“A threat she may have seen coming anyways. I just wanted to be sure. As for what it is, that is not something I’m at liberty to discuss right now,” he responded calmly, “We kill Corypheus? You can all dissect me for every morsel of information I have. Not until then.

“I’ve already let Evelyn know about the altar. She’s ‘listening’ to the voices right now and she’ll leave within the next couple days, if either of you want to go.”

Erik opened the door and crossed the threshold, then froze. He gazed across the garden, a smile on his face, and Aedan raised an eyebrow at the odd man in confusion.

“Kieran made some friends,” he said quietly to them before he left. Aedan glanced toward Morrigan, who had a look of worry in her eyes. He knew she would be worried. She had protected him and watched over him through everything, even while he wasn’t there. For him to be living as a normal boy, no longer needing to hide from a vengeful grandmother, was a leap he doubted Morrigan would get over easily.

They left the eluvian chamber together, the mirror still and silent once more. As they entered the garden, they saw their son kneeling next to a dwarf girl, a human girl, and a qunari boy, all about his age. The four of them were playing a game of marbles and Kieran was stealing glances with the human girl. His eyes no longer held the shadow in them that had haunted him for his entire life. A shy smile was on his face, reaching his eyes as he flicked one of the smooth glass balls into the center of a chalk sphere. Morrigan wrapped his arms around them as they watched, and the last of the tension in Aedan’s body crumbled to dust while he looked on at his pride and joy, free of his curse and truly happy, a new future ahead of him.

* * *

Evelyn wandered her way into the small Chantry in the garden, a sole leniency she had allowed the unyielding Chantry mothers. She hadn’t come to the Chantry as often as she should have, admittedly. She was Andrastian, in the loose sense of the word. But that was slipping away from her as much as her old self had slipped from her. The things she had seen had made sure of that. Even with what she knew of Erik’s arrival to the world, how could she believe in the Chant of Light’s teachings when she now knew the tale of the Black City was at least partially wrong? Or that the Elvhen gods were, in fact, real? When Solas claimed the Veil had not always existed in the world? It was too much to believe everything in the Chant.

Now, though, she felt she needed to pray. She was about to go bind a dragon sworn to Mythal to combat the man that started the Blights. If she failed, she would die, and the world would likely die with her, even with Corypheus’s forces as crippled as they were. It wouldn’t hurt for a little divine blessing, even if she were going to obtain a weapon from a god that Andrastians didn’t believe in, or that most believed even existed.

It was a harrowing thought, that she was dealing with the power of gods that, before a few months ago, no one believed were real. The fact that Erik even mentioned them waking at all was very, _very_ worrying. Even without that, it seemed things were coming to a head beyond Corypheus. And everything pointed to the ancient elves. She knew not what it meant, nor what it would spell for the future. Only Erik knew among them, most likely. The fact that she did not know irked her, but she had already tried to pry the information from him once, and it had nearly destroyed their relationship. So she decided to let him have his secrets for the time being. If he kept his word – and she knew he would – he would reveal everything to her in time. If he didn’t, she suspected she would learn eventually.

The mark on her hand popped. It had begun doing that more, when she worried or when she stressed or overworked herself. It hadn’t done that a year before. It had also grown larger, unless her mind was playing tricks on her. That was another worrying thing that she had to force herself not to think about; it would only exacerbate the Anchor further.

So Evelyn decided the best way to clear her mind was to pray. She used to pray all the time when she was in the Circle. She even attended sermon. She wondered exactly when she had stopped, and whether she would ever find it in herself to regularly start again. The Chantry in the castle was vacant most of the time, which was perfect for her needs. Most of the denizens of Skyhold attended sermon in the Chantry that had been built in New Haven, leaving the tiny one in the garden for those who were too busy to find the time to make it down to the city regularly. She knew Cassandra used it regularly, as did Leliana and Josephine. It wouldn’t hurt to pray more often, even as a form of meditation in a quiet chamber, completely alone save for Andraste.

When she opened the door to the Chantry, however, she realized it was not vacant. A broad man with a mop of curly blonde hair kneeled in front of Andraste’s statue, his hands clasped in front of him. She would recognize that mop anywhere, at this point. Evelyn felt tension she didn’t know was there dissipate at the sight of him as a smile grew on her lips. She waited until he was done with his prayers before she said anything.

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide,” Cullen prayed, “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light and nothing He has wrought shall be lost.”

She waited for him to finish before speaking. “A prayer for you?”

“For those we have lost. And those I am afraid to lose,” he admitted. Evelyn frowned at that.

"You're afraid?" she asked in confusion.

"Of course, I am,” he huffed, “Corypheus possessed that Grey Warden at the Temple of Mythal. What more is he capable of? It's only a matter of time before he retaliates. We must draw strength wherever we can."

He stood, turning to her with more than fear in his eyes. “When the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again. Andraste preserve me, I must send you to him.”

She let herself be pulled close to his chest and took in his warmth.

“There's nothing to worry about,” she said comfortingly, “I have luck on my side, remember?”

He let out a short laugh. “That's less comforting than I'd hoped.”

He dropped his head to her shoulder and took a deep breath. His constant cold sweats were gone. Good.

“Whatever happens, you _will_ come back,” he murmured, both a question and a statement. Evelyn let out a chuckle and nestled into his fur mantle.

“Is that an order, Commander?” she teased.

“No. But as one of your advisors, I strongly recommend it,” he said with a smiling voice.

“Well, then, what kind of leader would I be if I didn’t listen to my advisors? And my favorite one at that?”

Cullen pulled back and planted a kiss on her lips before resting his chin on her head.

“One that I would still love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for When a Demon Defiles a Witch by Whitechapel - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RuRZYB9EEZM
> 
> As a warning if any of you actually listen to the wild shit I get the titles from, this video (and the song's lyrical content) is rather disturbing in a whole bunch of ways, especially for those not versed in the heavier side of metal. Also, epilepsy warning?  
> This entire album is actually rather disturbing, even though it is one of the best metal albums I have ever heard. If you're into metal (death metal and deathcore, specifically) and haven't listened to The Valley, you're doing yourself a disservice.


	59. The Bard's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana faces a choice. Erik asks a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to this one for a loooong time.
> 
> Any dialogue and characters from the game are solely the property of Bioware and EA.

“So. Why Val Chevin, aside from the fact that you knew about the letter?” Leliana asked him as they embraced lazily in the bed within their cabin, both half naked and far too comfortable to crawl out from under the sheets as the ship gently rocked.

Erik shrugged. “I did some digging and found out that it’s where the Vasseur family is from, which means that’s where you spent the majority of your childhood. Figured that coupled with Justinia’s old cloister would make it a good place to go back to.”

She hummed. “Clever. Did you know it’s the location of my estate, as well?”

He gave her a look. “Really? The Left Hand’s estate isn’t in Val Royeaux?”

“Not that one. That’s owned by the Chantry, really. I meant _my_ estate. The one Lady Cecilie left me.”

“Oh,” he blinked, unsure of how he didn’t think of that, “That makes sense that she’d have left you the estate.”

“All your little machinations, and you didn’t think of that, did you?” she teased. Erik rolled his eyes and drew himself closer to her.

“You know what? The longer I’m with you, the more I think that you’re just repressing the old, happy Leliana,” he dug, knowing the reaction that he would get out of her. He didn’t care. He wanted to plant the seed in her mind that there was another way out before they got to the Valence Cloister.

Just as he suspected, she emotionally pulled away just a bit.

“The one you never really knew?” she asked flatly. Erik sighed and sat upright.

“Babe, you don’t have to be so hard,” Erik pointed out, “You still have a choice, and as someone on the outside looking in, you’d be much happier if you simply stopped repressing your emotions so much.”

“You’re rather cold to most people. You seem to be doing just fine,” she pointed out angrily.

“I accidentally killed the friendly part of me. I don’t even know when it happened, but I regret it,” he sighed, “Even then, I still find the time and place to show emotion. That’s the key, love. A time and place for everything.”

She didn’t respond. A knock came at the door of the cabin, and Erik let out an aching grunt as he sat upright and plodded his way over to the doorframe, adjusting the knot on his trousers as he did so. He opened it to find the cabin boy at the door. The lad wasn’t too young – perhaps fifteen, certainly old enough to swing a blade in Thedas. Erik suspected he was working on the ship to earn his place on the ship. Erik raised his eyebrow at the boy as he glanced at him nervously – no doubt due to his eyes.

“Pardon me, ser,” the cabin boy stammered out, “But we’ll be arriving in Val Chevin shortly. Captain sent me down here to inform you.”

“Thanks, kid,” he smiled. Erik noted how the boy glanced at him nervously. Erik let out a sigh.

“You’ve got a question, kid. Spit it out,” he said calmly.

“I… I don’t want to be a bother, ser,” the boy began, “But is it true the Inquisition has defeated Corypheus?”

“Not quite. We defeated his armies, but we have a few more things to do. Then the Inquisitor and I will have to confront him one last time.”

“The world will be safe, then?”

“From him? Yes,” Erik nodded.

“That doesn’t sound like ‘safe’.”

“Smart boy,” he grinned, “I’ve lived for over a thousand years, in some form or another. Do you know what I’ve learned in that time?”

The cabin boy shook his head, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“It’s that people always believe they’re right when there usually isn’t a clear answer. They believe they’re so right that they’re willing to put the world on the line to prove it. It happened with Corypheus. It happened during all the Exalted Marches. It even happened with–” he stopped himself.

“It happened with what?” the boy asked with curiosity and more than a bit of worry.

“Something beyond your comprehension of the world as we know it,” Erik shook his head, “Why do you ask about Corypheus?”

“It’s my mum and da,” he explained, “They work for the Inquisition. Couldn’t take me, so I took a job as the cabin boy here. I know they’re alive, but…”

“You worried about them?” The boy nodded. Erik sighed.

“This war is almost over, kid. I promise you that,” he reassured, “Your parents won’t have to fight in any more major battles, I don’t think.”

The cabin boy heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, ser.”

Erik gave a nod and a smile, and the boy turned to leave. As he did so, a thought came into his head.

“Hey, kid.” The boy turned back toward him. Erik reached into his coat pocket from where it hung by the door and fished out a handful of Royals from his coin purse, dropping them into the cabin boy’s hand.

“Treat yourself while we’re in Val Chevin.”

“But—”

“Nope. Don’t wanna hear it,” Erik cut him off, “If you feel bad about treating yourself, find a nice girl and treat her, instead.”

The cabin boy’s face flushed pink and he awkwardly pocketed the coins before giving a polite bow to

Erik and climbing the stairs to the deck. He let out a sigh and shut the door.

“He didn’t have to bow,” Erik commented, “I’m not even wearing a shirt.”

“You didn’t have to give him money,” Leliana commented as she rolled out from under the sheets and pulled a blouse over her head.

“It was a tip. He’s been pretty damn attentive this entire voyage,” Erik shrugged, “Plus, I didn’t want to seem like the ‘big, scary spirit-man’ he seemed to think I was.”

“Fair,” she shrugged before changing topics, “So. Leave the luggage at my estate, then take a quick ride to Valence?”

“If that seems like the best course of action,” he said as he grabbed his belongings, “You’re the Left Hand. That letter wasn’t meant for me.”

“You’re here, though. I just want to make sure you’re alright with the plan.”

“I’m here for _you_ ,” Erik said as they left the cabin, “Until you handle this situation with the letter, we’re here for you and you alone. Then we can plan out everything else.”

“Our little holiday, you mean.”

“Yep. But business first. And it isn’t my business. I’m only here to help.”

She gave a small smile and snaked her hand around his back. Erik relaxed slightly at the touch and felt calm wash over him.

“Thank you for planning this,” she said, “And coming to help. It means more than you realize.”

“Leliana, I love you more than anything in the world. If you asked me to fight an Archdemon for you, I’d do it. Of course, I’m going to help you with this.”

“If only you were here ten years ago,” she sighed facetiously, “I may have asked you to do just that.”

Erik didn’t really get to see Leliana’s estate outside of the small foyer. She opened the door and unceremoniously dumped their chest on the floor upon arrival, then closed and locked the door back up and climbing into the carriage. He tried not to pout about it; he’d have liked to see more than just a glimpse of the manor that he’d likely be living in when the Inquisition inevitably either disbanded or sizably downsized. Leliana, however, wanted to get the Valence situation handled as quickly as possible, which made sense, he supposed. She also said she didn’t want to get comfortable when there was work to be done. He definitely was of the same mind there. Their holiday didn’t start until they completed Leliana’s final business as the Left Hand of the Divine.

The ride out of Val Chevin and to Valence was rather calm and took just under an hour. When they arrived, Erik climbed out of the carriage and surveyed his surroundings; Val Chevin’s satellite town was what he would call a suburb back on Earth. It was small, but not run down or poor, and sat on the coastline, facing the Waking Sea and the southern half of Orlais across the vast waters. The cloister itself stood on the shore, a simple yet opulent thing of marble and polished bronze. Leliana told the carriage to wait for them as they stopped outside the cloister. She and Erik climbed out and entered the place of worship.

The interior was… haunting in its beauty. As though a ghost stalked the halls, and none dared disturb anything that lay within lest they incur the wrath of the spectre that dwelled there. Several statues lined the walls, and candles burned in alcoves. Several more surrounded the statue of Andraste in the dimly-lit main chamber. The light from the candles flickered off the statue gazing down at them, and suddenly Erik felt very small.

"It's just as I remember it," Leliana sighed, "After the Blight ended, I came here to see Justinia. She was just Dorothea then, a Revered Mother." She glanced around with melancholy, her eyes glazed over with nostalgia and sadness.

"It's peaceful,” Erik said, ignoring the heavy weight in the air, “I imagine you have good memories of this place."

"It was a place of comfort,” she agreed, “It is good to see it's still untouched by Corypheus."

Erik noted the past tense she used with a hint of sorrow just as he heard footsteps echoing behind them and prepared for his lover’s final test of restraint.

"Leliana? Is that you?" the woman approaching them asked. She was young, perhaps two or three years younger than Evelyn, garbed all in Chantry robes. Her voice said she was surprised, but her eyes gave the illusion away.

"Sister Natalie. What are you doing her? I thought you were in Val Royeaux," Leliana asked suspiciously.

"No. I've been here since Justinia died,” she said before greeting the Bard with a small hug. Leliana gave him a look from over the Chantry sister’s shoulder that he knew intimately. He gave a small nod and a reassuring smile.

"This place makes me feel like… like she's still with us," Natalie continued as they broke the hug.

"Erik, this is Natalie, a trusted friend,” Leliana introduced, her voice giving nothing away, “Natalie, this is Erik Andersen, Champion of Andraste and my partner.”

Natalie blinked in surprise. "Partner? In the Inquisition?" she asked innocently.

“Romantic partner,” Erik corrected bluntly, “Not necessarily common knowledge.”

"Oh, I…" Natalie said awkwardly "I see."

"Natalie, listen,” the Spymaster righted the conversation, “There is something hidden here. Something Justinia left for me."

Her eyes gave her away. They flashed with eagerness and recognition for a brief moment, and even when they were gone, they were filled with a cunning and just a hint of malice.

"Oh, really? What is it?" she asked innocently.

"I don't know, but we'll find it. I'm curious to see what brought us all here,” his lover hummed even as Erik wandered off to where the first mechanism hid, “Justinia’s letter came with instructions, if a little cryptic. ‘Always remember that faith sprung from a barren branch. That light has no fear of darkness. Above all, that strength lies in an open heart.”

“Got it,” Erik called across the cloister as the first mechanism clicked into place. Leliana frowned at him.

“The rose paining? That was commissioned after I wrote the song of the Blight. How did you know it was there?”

“Leliana, do you know how many times I’ve done this back on Earth?” he asked dryly.

“I thought you’ve only read it in a story,” she recalled, her brow furrowing.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he shrugged, “I just thought it would be easier to explain it as a story when I came to the Inquisition.”

“We’re having a conversation tonight, then,” she said firmly, “But, seeing as you know where everything is, I’ll leave you to the detective work.”

Erik sighed and resigned himself to explaining exactly what the hell an Xbox was. The three of them advanced into the main chamber as he glanced around for the painting of Andraste’s death by Hessarian. Leliana began digging for dirt on Natalie as he did so.

“Do they still sing the verses from the Benedictions every Friday? That Canticle was Justinia’s favorite.”

“Yes, of course,” Natalie responded with just a little too much enthusiasm, “We’d never give up the traditions of our most beloved Divine.”

“That is lovely to hear,” Leliana said, her voice dripping with sorrow beyond the loss of her friend. Erik could tell she was hurt by the lies. He pulled the second mechanism as she continued speaking.

“I stared up at the Breach sometimes,” she commented nonchalantly, “It was terrifying, but in a beautiful way.”

“It was,” the Chantry sister agreed. Leliana turned her eyes toward Natalie.

“Have you seen it by sunrise?”

“When the sun rose through it, it split into what looked like a thousand suns in a broken mirror,” she described. Erik leaned over the open Chant of Light and pulled the final mechanism, smiling to himself as he did so. Sister Natalie was climbing further into Leliana’s web, even as his love continued to spin it. She really was good at her job.

The sound of stone grinding lightly against stone echoed off the walls. Erik approached the back of the cloister and gently pulled open the mural painted there before lifting the portrait of Andraste. A small box lay inside a chamber within, sitting atop a stone pedestal.

But Leliana was not beside him. He heard the sound of the knife flash, and when he turned around, Sister Natalie was pinned against the base of the central statue, a dagger pressed to her neck.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," the Bard growled.

"Leliana…” Erik tried. She tensed slightly.

"Erik, stop. I'm protecting us," she snapped before speaking to Natalie again, "They never sing the Benedictions here on Fridays, Natalie. Something so simple, and you got it so wrong. I wanted to believe, but you were lying from the start Keep that pretty mouth shut if you must, dear. You've already told me everything I need to know.

“The prickleweed burs on your hem, talking about the sun rising through the Breach… it all points to a single place: Morelle in the Dales. Grand Cleric Victorie's bastion. She sent you, didn't she? Victoire was always an opportunist."

"Leliana, please," Erik tried once more.

"No,” she said firmly, “Victoire is an experienced cleric. She never agreed with Justinia but kept her ideas to herself. I suppose now, with Justinia dead, she thought she could make her move."

"The Inquisition has turned Thedas away from the true Chantry," Natalie spat, “It must be stopped."

"Stop us? You must be joking," Leliana barked in bitter laughter.

"Mother Victoire is well loved by many. The Inquisition has more enemies than you know." Natalie attempted to squirm beneath the dagger, and Leliana pressed harder. A small trickle of blood crept down her neck.

"And Victoire thinks she can ally with them?"

"It doesn’t have to end this way. She could come with us. Join the Inquisition," Erik suggested though he knew it fruitless.

"I was called to serve the Grand Cleric. I will not betray her," Natalie said defiantly, "Kill me then. I'm not afraid to die for my beliefs. At least I still know what I believe."

Erik could tell she was about to do it. To slit her throat and be done with it. But Erik didn’t want her to do that to herself, even if Natalie probably deserved it for the betrayal. He approached his lover and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her head jerked toward him, and her grim look faltered just briefly.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Erik pleaded, “If for no other reason, don’t soil your memory of this place.”

“Erik, you know this must be done.”

“It doesn’t,” he protested, “I told you on the ship. You have a choice. Every warrior and spy comes to the point where they must put down their tools and walk away, or they will never be free of them. Everyone I’ve met that missed their opportunity regretted it for the rest of their lives.”

Leliana blinked in surprise and turned back to Natalie. Her hand was trembling now, making the dagger dance against the soft flesh of the Sister’s neck. Erik watched as his love debated. And debated. Sweat beaded down Natalie’s brow.

She finally let out a sigh and pulled the dagger away. Natalie breathed a heavy breath and moved her hand to her neck.

"Run, then,” Leliana bit out, “Tell your mistress that she has a choice. The Inquisition is coming."

Natalie blinked in surprise, then glanced at Erik, who returned her look with a still, unemotional gaze. The Sister stumbled once then moved as quickly as she could without running. Leliana moved for the hidden chamber, her grip still tight around the dagger’s hilt. She opened the box sitting within and blinked in shock.

"No," she gasped, "It’s empty. This can't be it."

"It's not what you were expecting,” Erik corrected, “That doesn't mean it's nothing." Leliana frowned and inspected the box more closely.

"There's a message, carved into the lid,” she realized, “'The Left Hand should lay down her burden.'”

Realization dawned on Leliana’s face and the dagger dropped from her hand. It clattered on the floor and echoed off the stone walls.

“She… She's releasing me,” she muttered. A distant gaze came over her eyes as she continued, “The Divine has a long reach, but it is always her Left Hand that stretches out. A thousand lies. A thousand deaths. Her commands, but my conscience that bore the consequences."

"She apologized in the Fade. She said she failed you. I don’t know if Evelyn ever told you, with everything that happened," Erik said as he moved closer to her, “This is what she meant.”

"I… you’re right. All this time, Justinia carried the fear that she was using me, just like I'd been used in the past. But Marjolaine's games were trifles. Justinia gambled with the fate of nations. She needed me. No one else could've done what I did. She knows that."

Erik gently gripped her chin and turned her head toward him. He gave her a small, sad smile.

"Let it go. Let her go. You don't owe her anything anymore."

Tears began to well in Leliana’s eyes, and Erik feared he said the wrong thing. A sob escaped her lips, followed by another, as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Leliana reached her arms out for him, and he pulled her in close as she broke, mourning her friend and everything she had done in the name of that friendship.

He held her there until her tears were spent, and then he wiped her cheeks clean and gazed down at her. It looked as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“You’re going to be okay,” he reassured. She nodded only once, grabbing the box and cradling it in her arms. Erik guided her out of the cloister, his arm wrapped tightly around her as she still let out sniffles in an aftershock of her grief.

It wasn’t until they climbed into the carriage that Erik realized Leliana had left the dagger behind.

They sat on her rooftop terrace as her two nugs nestled together in the corner. The garden below wafted the sweet scents of orange and lavender upward as the sun set over the Val Chevin docks in the distance, reminding Erik of the dream he had met her in just after the Battle of the Arbor Wilds. Leliana seemed exhausted mentally, and Erik could imagine why. She had just let go of half a decade of killing and subterfuge in the name of the greater good. He could tell she was shaken, as well – she had come very, very close to killing Natalie of her own volition. Erik was glad she didn’t.

“My mother used to sing me to sleep right here, on this bench,” she recalled, “I don’t remember much of her, but I do remember that.”

“Do you remember what she was like?” he asked.

“She was… my mother. I don’t know how else to describe it. I remember her linen dress, and how she used to sing me to sleep or tell me tales. I remember the perfume she wore.”

“Andraste’s grace,” Erik nodded, “It was the reason I got it for you in the first place. I knew that was your favorite flower because of that memory.”

“It’s all I have of her. Memories,” she said sadly, “And for you – a stranger at the time – to have gone out of your way while on a diplomatic mission to find that perfume for me was…”

“Disturbing?” he asked playfully.

“Touching,” she corrected, her voice more emotional than he’d ever heard it, “I hadn’t ever told you about that. I never would have. It was the first time I was genuinely touched in… I don’t even know how long. Why did you get it in the first place, may I ask?”

“I was with Evelyn, just doing some shopping,” Erik shrugged, “I saw it and thought of you. You were mourning, and needed a friend that wasn’t afraid of you beyond Josephine and Cassandra. Evelyn teased me about it, but I felt like I had to get it for you.”

“Why did she tease you?”

“She knew I was crushing on you,” he explained. At her confused look, he clarified, “I fancied you, to use a more Thedosian term. Evelyn thought it was sweet that I was so nervous about it.”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” she poked his ribs. Erik grinned and shook his head.

“I was nervous because you’re beautiful. I’m not exactly the most charismatic when it comes to women,” he tried to explain.  
“Well, you were charismatic enough to catch my eye. I think you’re selling yourself short.”

“I might be. But I doubt it. I think you were just duped,” he joked. She let out a giggle, then fell silent. They watched the ships arrive and leave as the sun continued to drop and the moons became clearer. Leliana drew herself closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around her. Schmooples II began to snore. The box in his pocket began to weigh on him.

“May I ask you something?” she asked after nearly half an hour of silence.

“Anything,” he said.

“Would you still have loved me? If I had killed Natalie?”

Something clicked in Erik; he wasn’t sure what. But he knew it was then or never. He turned slightly toward Leliana and looked at her with sincerity.

“Of course,” he reassured, “I would be a hypocrite if I judged you for something like that when I’ve done similar things.”

“Then why did you ask me to stop? Not that I mind, though Josephine likely won’t let me hear the end of it when we return to Skyhold.”

Erik bit his lip. “Because I didn’t want you to bear that burden anymore. But if you chose to bear it, I would have supported you. That’s what I’ll always do. You’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Erik, that may be a bit far–”

“No. There are some things I need to say, and I’m going to say them and mean every word,” he interrupted. He took a deep breath and began.

“Leliana, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the smartest, most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes upon. Every day I wake up next to you is a blessing from the Maker, and every night I fall asleep beside you is another. You’ve made me want to be better, and to do better. You are the reason I kept my humanity when I wasn’t sure what I even was.”

Erik slid himself from the bench and dropped to a knee. Even if it wasn’t the custom in Thedas – and he wasn’t sure if it was, since he’d never got around to asking anybody – Leliana understood what was happening. Her eyes went wide with shock and her pupils grew slightly.

“I don’t want any of that to go away,” he continued, “Ever. I want that to be my life. I want to wake up next to you and share every day I can with you. I want to enjoy a beautiful world I never would have imagined seeing in my wildest dreams with the most beautiful woman I could ever imagine. I want to have a family and a person I can call home. And I don’t know why it took me over a year to realize what I wanted was right in front of me.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, lifting the small cherry box’s lid open. Inside, sitting in cushioned velvet, was a platinum ring embedded with two sapphires and a red diamond. Leliana brought a hand to her mouth at the sight of it. Her shoulders began to tremble and her chest began to rise and fall more rapidly.

“Leliana, will you marry me?”

A tear fell from her eye – the second time she had cried that day. But she nodded as the drop fell, her hand coming away from her mouth.

“Yes,” she breathed shakily. Relief and joy unlike anything he had ever felt came crashing over him like waves against the shore. He felt a wide, exhilarated grin spread over his face as he pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. Leliana brought it closer to her eyes, her hand trembling as she did so. She let out another shaky breath and laughed.

“I never thought this would happen,” she admitted, “Never.”

He only responded by drawing her in for a kiss. She pressed into it, burning and filled with desire and love unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. He breathed in her scent and relished the taste of her on his tongue, even as she pulled back from their embrace.

“Well, let’s go then,” she said after a moment. Erik blinked in surprise.

“What? Go to bed?”

“To get married,” she said incredulously, “You _did_ just ask, no?”

“Right now? I just proposed! Isn’t there, like, a bit of time? A wedding to plan? You know, ask Josephine to be your Maid of Honor, I ask Dorian to be my Best Man, we have a ceremony in a Chantry?”

“The only part you got right is the ceremony,” she corrected, “We aren’t nobility, Erik, as much as I won property and as highly regarded as you are. We don’t have that. We just… go get wedded.”

“Oh,” he blinked. It made sense. Thedas wasn’t Earth. Feudalism was still a thing, and he shouldn’t have expected such similar traditions, even if he did seem to get the proposal correct.

“Well, then. Let’s go get married,” he laughed, pulling Leliana to her feet. They moved for the staircase, Leliana’s nugs following them inside, and she put them up and practically dragged him out of the manor.

They found the smallest Chantry in the city– there was no one in there, meaning it was as private as they wanted. The Chantry Mother inside was more than willing to officiate, especially after she learned who they were. They stood facing one another before the Mother and the Chantry’s small statue of Andraste, their hands clasped in one another’s. Erik wasn’t necessarily Andrastian, but he knew that Leliana was, and that was enough for him to swear Andrastian vows.

“I swear unto the Maker and Holy Andraste to love you, Leliana, for the rest of my days,” he began, “In wealth, and in poverty, in peace and in strife, in health and in sickness. I swear to walk with you in the Maker’s light, in this world and the next, from here to eternity.”

“And I swear unto the Maker and Holy Andraste to love you, Erik Andersen, for the rest of my days,” she said, her lips seemingly locked in a permanent smile, “In wealth, and in poverty, in peace and in strife, in health and in sickness. I swear to walk with you in the Maker’s light, in this world and the next, from here to eternity.”

“Then in the name of Andraste and the Maker, who blessed us with the gift of love, I name you husband and wife,” the Mother said warmly as she placed a golden band in Leliana's palm, “May your marriage be blessed with happiness and peace.”

Leliana gently slid the ring onto his finger. Erik smiled and drew her close to kiss her, and with the kiss he sealed their vow.

He and Leliana found their way back to her estate. It was night, by then, but it may as well have been day for how warm Erik felt. They made their way up the stairs and into her bedroom, which had been prepared by the servants working at the manor. Erik didn’t even know she _had_ servants, but it was merely a passing thought. Because as soon as they were though the door, she swung it shut and shoved him onto the mattress.

Leliana crawled over him and began to drag his shirt over his head, and he did the same with hers. As soon as both were off, she assaulted him voraciously. She moved at him with more hunger and far more energy than he had ever expected or experienced, and Erik suddenly wondered if it were a bad idea to propose to her on a twelve-day vacation.

The things she did to him made him completely forget about the ridiculous notion that had crossed his mind. The fact that he fell asleep next to a woman he could call his wife made it all the more worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for The Bard's Song by Blind Guardian - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zklqr1xj32Q
> 
> 200 kudos. Thanks, y'all. Means quite a bit.


	60. Master of Puppets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn learns just what she gave up by drinking from the Well of Sorrows and tames a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue and characters from Dragon Age belongs to Bioware/EA.
> 
> I have finally passed the Berchel Test with this chapter (I think. I may have done it earlier without realizing, but this was the first time I caught it. Crazy that it took me 59 chapters to do it).

Even with the knowledge of the Well, it was difficult to find the altar Erik claimed the _actual_ Mythal had wanted her to visit. Still, the voices told her it was there – she still couldn’t believe she was listening to voices in her head – so she searched for it. Which meant going back to the Arbor Wilds, of all Maker-forsaken places. Even with the aid of the voices, it was extremely difficult and increasingly frustrating to search for the altar. The Well’s knowledge was based off knowledge from the time of Elvhenan, meaning it was like taking directions in a city from someone who had lived in it a hundred years prior. Only the Well’s directions were thirty-five hundred years out of date, and not just a century. The Arbor Wilds had undoubtedly changed since then. The entire world had changed, and judging from the things the voices whispered, it had changed _drastically_. So drastically, in fact, that it was difficult to wrap her head around some of the things she heard thrown her way. And she didn’t have the time to meditate for hours on end and get a massive history lesson from the voices of the dead.

So they pressed on through the underbrush and forest with half-baked directions. Cassandra had grown increasingly irritated, and Bull and Dorian were even more frustrated than the Nevarran. Evelyn, too, was reaching the end of her patience, when they finally found the altar. Or, rather, when Bull found the altar.

“Holy shit, boss, I think I found it,” he breathed in relief from a massive, overgrown bush. She ran as quickly as she could through the woods to where Iron Bull had called for her; as soon as she saw the archway, the voices began to chatter away like gossiping nobles at the Winter Palace, and she knew they’d found it. After two weeks of traveling and searching, they had found the elusive altar.

“Thank the fucking Maker,” she let out a relieved laugh, “I was about to lose my mind.”

“As was I,” Cassandra agreed, “Now let’s get this over with. I do not like listening to the advice of Mythal… whatever she truly is.”

“Oh, come now, Cassandra, look at the bright side,” Dorian chirped, “At least we’re nearing the end of the road.”

Evelyn had to agree with Dorian as they pushed their way through the archway and into a clearing surrounded by walls on all sides. At one end was a relatively small altar, with a half-ruined statue no larger than the statue of Andraste in the garden Chantry. It was run down and eroded over thousands of years, but it was still intact, largely, and Evelyn couldn’t help but imagine what the altar had looked like in all its glory. She moved forward toward the altar and froze. Engraved deep into the stone, weathered with time, was elvhen scripture. And somehow, she could read it.

“We few who travel far, call to me, and I will come. Without mercy, without fear,” she read, “Cry havoc in the moonlight, let the fire of vengeance burn, the cause is clear.”

“Well, isn’t that just perfectly ominous,” Dorian huffed from behind her. She ignored his quip and studied the altar.

“The Temple was a place of justice… but this is different,” she pondered as she listened to the voices, “This is where the elves called to Mythal. _Spoke_ to her. Then one day, she disappeared, and this place no longer served a purpose. They had no one left to speak to.”

There was a moment of silence as she and her small team let it sink in what that meant.

“Do you need to do this alone?” Cassandra asked worriedly. Evelyn closed her eyes and listened for the voices once more. They said alone, which was worrying.

“I must do it alone, but don’t be far. If there’s truly a dragon, I won’t be able to best it on my own,” she said, “And of all people, Cassandra, you’re the one I really want here. Your family hunts dragons, after all.”

“ _They_ might, but I seem to have hunted stranger prey than flying lizards for most of my life,” Cassandra admitted, “Still, I’m honored you trust me this much. I will do what I can.”

Evelyn gave a small smile at Cassandra’s utter insistence on protocol after everything they’d been through. Then it dropped from her face, as Cassandra backed away with Dorian and Bull, and she called up to the sky.

“I’m here, Mythal. Just as you wanted. If there’s a dragon, send it.”

Her call was greeted with silence. Evelyn frowned at the altar and shifted uncomfortably.

“Do you hear me? I’ve come, just as you–”

“I know you’ve come,” a croaking voice said behind them. Evelyn spun around to see an older yet ageless woman approaching them. Her white hair was swept up into four horns, her eyes the same color and her nose the same shape as Morrigan’s. Evelyn suddenly realized Erik was telling the truth.

“Flemeth,” she said flatly. The woman let out a laugh.

“Such familiarity from one that has never met me? And how can you be sure I bear that name?”

“I know your daughter,” Evelyn responded nervously, “She looks a fair bit like you.”

“Ah, yes, my dear, doting daughter,” Flemeth drawled facetiously, “I’ve spoken to her already. I half expected you to be there with her, if I’m to be truthful. But I suppose speaking with her first was for the best, after all.”

“And why is that?” she asked.

“Because it gives me an opportunity to speak with you alone, and without interference.”

Evelyn did not like the sound of that. She did not like any of the proceeding, in fact. She expected whisperings in her mind like she were mad, a fight with a dragon, and maybe a quick patch-up after the fight. She didn’t expect to meet Flemeth – or Mythal, she supposed. She was dangerous. More dangerous than Erik, or herself, or anyone she had ever met, even Corypheus. Power radiated off her like waves in a sea tempest, washing over everything in the grove and making Evelyn feel very small, weak, and alone. If the ancient being wanted to harm her, she doubted that there would be anything she or any of the other three she brought with her could stop her. Evelyn clenched her jaw in frustration. She really should have brought a bigger team.

“Well, I’m here,” Evelyn said after a moment, “What do we have to speak about?”

“About you, and our newfound relationship, and of what may come to pass in the future,” Flemeth responded calmly, as though speaking with a child, “I know you drank from the Well of Sorrows without realizing the full repercussions. Few at my Temple that day truly understood what the servant was agreeing to. Indeed, many of those in my service did not know the true consequences.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she sighed, “If you still exist, I suppose I’m bound to your service.”

“I am not without mercy, dear girl,” Flemeth smirked, “You drank out of necessity. My daughter would not have drunk of her own volition, once she learned of who Mythal was. That, I fear, was no fault but mine. I did not explain to her what I wanted for her.”

She sighed and continued, “But I understand you merely drank because you had no choice. Who else would have done it? So, I offer to you this: I will not ask of you much, beyond the defeat of the Magister. I give you my guardian to match Corypheus’s beast, on the condition that you prepare.”

“Prepare for what, exactly?” Evelyn pressed. Flemeth smiled and let out a wicked laugh that sent chills down her spine.

“A new age, and the turning of the great wheel. Offering more than that would ruin the fun,” she chastised, “And your focus, more importantly. You will learn, in time.”

Had she lacked composure, she would have lashed out in frustration. As it was, it was all she could do to not begin screaming.

“Why is _everyone_ I meet that has _any_ inkling of knowledge beyond what we already know insufferably vague?”

“Because you are not ready,” Flemeth snapped, “Because the world is not ready. Truth is the great equalizer, dear girl. It is as crushing as it is liberating, as constraining as it is boundless. Once you know the truth I speak of, all else seems meaningless. But you will know, when you learn of it, that it is what I intended you to prepare for.”

“So. Kill Corypheus and prepare for some unknowable threat that would detract from the Inquisition’s current goals,” Evelyn hummed, “Simple enough.”

“Sometimes, the simplest goals are the ones most difficult to accomplish,” Flemeth said sadly, “I have learned that many times over.”

Evelyn tapped her staff on the ground, if only to give her something to do with her body.

“I wish you could tell me more,” she admitted. Flemeth approached her, stopping just beyond arm’s reach. Evelyn froze as she felt an odd, unique, greasy sensation, as though an uninvited hand had taken hold of her mind. It did not control her thoughts, yet it pulled at her mind nonetheless, like strings on a marionette. Evelyn felt a bout of boundless terror rush into her as control of her body was gently taken from her. She moved her head upward to meet Flemeth’s gaze, though it was not of her own volition. The witch’s eyes stared directly through her, and her gaze bore both a sternness and a regret at what she had just done.

“I wish I could tell you all, Inquisitor,” Flemeth said, though Evelyn knew it was not Flemeth speaking, “I can only grant you this one more warning: should something befall me and you enter the service of another, they may not be as… gentle, with their handling of your servitude. There is wickedness in the blood of this world beyond anything mortals can hope to comprehend.”

Evelyn couldn’t move. She couldn’t even attempt to choke out a noise. It was as though a hand were on her lips, keeping them shut so she could not speak. Tears of panic began to well in her eyes, making her vision blur as the full weight of what she had sacrificed came to bear for the very first time.

And then the presence was gone, as though a blade were taken to the strings on her. Evelyn took a sudden gasp of air and scrambled backward. She tripped over a stair but did not stop her retreat as she crawled belly-up away from her sovereign; her back smacked into the crumbling statue at the altar, and that was where she froze again, this time as prey to a predator, instead of a puppet on strings. She gripped her staff as tightly as she could, as though it were her only lifeline that remained. She stared at Mythal in dread, expecting that horrible, unwelcome presence within her mind once more. It did not come.

“I merely did that to teach you, and it is unlikely I will exert such control again,” Flemeth said soothingly, “Take time to recover, if you must. The voices will teach you how to call my guardian, when you are ready.”

The Mother Goddess turned to leave, and in a cloud of blue and black smoke, she was gone. Yet Evelyn could still feel what she had done. She continued to gaze on in horror at the last place the witch was, her vision warped with building tears even as her friends sprinted to her side.

“Inquisitor, did she hurt you?” Cassandra asked quickly, her eyes belying the panic that was not in her voice, “Are you all right?”

She didn’t respond. Only stared on, her mind blank. Even the voices had gone silent. She felt only fear, unlike even the kind she felt facing the Nightmare. For the Nightmare could only produce illusions, and the Nightmare was dead. But Mythal was not.

“Evelyn?” Cassandra called firmly.

It was the Seeker’s voice that drew her back to herself. Her head snapped toward Cassandra’s form. Suddenly, her chest began to tremble and the wetness in her eyes began to fall. Evelyn clutched her knees to her chest and made herself as small as she could as she silently wept in sheer dread, lamenting the loss of her freedom.

She calmed down, eventually. The sun was low in the sky when she calmed, but she did soothe herself. Still, she felt the aftershocks of what had passed in her mind, and she felt as though her soul had an oily stain on it that would only wash off with time. How much time, she could not say, nor did she care. She wanted Cullen. She simply wanted to feel the comfort of his embrace as he shielded her from the ordeal without saying a word. She could have that, she realized. Only a dragon stood in her way.

Evelyn stood, begrudgingly allowing Bull and Cassandra to help her to her feet. She gave a small smile to them and turned to the old statue of Mythal. She closed her eyes and listened to the voices; they hadn’t changed their tone, but they sounded far more sinister than before her meeting with the goddess she had sold herself to.

“I’m ready,” she spoke to Mythal, “If your offer still stands, send the dragon.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the buzzing of cicadas. Evelyn bit her lip nervously and hoped she hadn’t failed some secret test that Flemeth had been putting her through.

Her fears were assuaged when she heard a roaring shriek from over the treetops. Evelyn and her group all swung around in unison as they heard the beating of leathery wings come closer and closer. The tops of the trees began to sway with the wind the dragon disturbed as it flew toward the grove. It finally crested the canopy and dove straight for the clearing, landing with a thunderous noise that shook the ground and made the four of them lose balance briefly. It clawed at the dirt and let out a roar of defiance, as if daring Evelyn to test her might against its scales.

She studied the beast for a brief second. It was nearly golden in color, with its lower jaw and underbelly a stark white. The horns atop its head reminded her of the way Flemeth wore her hair, and Evelyn frowned at the implication of that. She remembered Aedan sharing a story once of fighting Flemeth when she had shapeshifted into a dragon form – what if this was merely her shapeshifted once again? But she knew better. There would have been more indication, and Flemeth would likely have changed her form right before her if that were the case. No, this was an ancient high dragon, likely sleeping for thousands of years, waking only to feed and to heed the call of any Mythal personally chose.

Evelyn took a deep breath and twirled her staff in her hand to loosen her wrist. Dorian did the same as Bull withdrew his massive warhammer and Cassandra readied her sword and shield. She really should have brought more people. Erik would have been nice, as well, but he had insisted on taking that holiday with Leliana.

“Right,” Evelyn muttered in a worried tone, “There are only four of us, and we aren’t trying to kill it. Just wear it down, and if it stops fighting, don’t keep hitting it. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“You’re asking a lot of me,” Bull grunted as he choked up on the haft of the hammer.

“Iron Bull and I will keep it distracted. You and Dorian should wear it down from afar,” Cassandra said determinedly. She trotted forward with the horned man, clanging her shield on her blade. The dragon tracked them with unnervingly still movements, watching the two warriors as they approached at a leisurely trot. It let out a deep, rumbling growl that Evelyn felt in her chest.

Then it spit fire at them both. Cassandra dove one way, Bull rolled the other, and Dorian and Evelyn both Fade-stepped at the same time to find better vantage points. She quickly formulated tactics in her mind. If it breathed fire, she might as well use ice against it, though it wasn’t her forte. She conjured up a bitter frost and let it build at the head of her staff, then threw it at one of the front legs of the winged beast. Immediately its claw froze to the ground; Dorian seemed to have the same idea, for its left claw grew frosted, as well. The dragon roared in frustration and belched two small bursts of flame at both mages. Evelyn had barely enough time to bring up a barrier before its fires were upon her, blistering and as hot as the sun itself. She let it wash over her, difficult as it was, and continued to throw frost at the dragon’s underbelly. Cassandra dove beneath the beast and bashed the edge of her shield into its ribcage, clearly not attempting to draw blood. Good. Evelyn had no idea how long it took dragons to heal, and it would do no good to have a wounded dragon against Corypheus’s Archdemon facsimile.

Bull swung his hammer into the dragon’s haunches. It roared in anger more than pain and beat its wings. The strength of it alone was enough to shatter the ice that she and Dorian had formed on its claws, and it rose up into the air just a bit, angling its wings at them and throwing dust in their faces. Evelyn covered her eyes with her arm and threw up another barrier, this time around both herself as well as Cassandra and Bull. It was pointless. The dragon folded its wings and slammed into the ground, kicking out with its leg and slamming Iron Bull in the chest. He was thrown back into the brush surrounding the edge of the clearing and fell backward; he was quickly up on his feet with a snarling look of anger, but there were at least two puncture marks on his abdomen and a quickly blackening bruise on his chest, visible even with his deep grey skin. He’d definitely broken something, and possibly had internal bleeding. Evelyn threw another bolt of frost at the dragon and was vaguely aware of Bull downing a healing potion and hefting his hammer once more.

On and on it went. They would throw magic at the dragon and hit it with blunt force, and it would toy with them and toss them around like ragdolls. They were getting worn down, bit by bit. Evelyn was certain her collar bone was broken, and though she’d mended it with magic, she would need to have Bull or Cassandra re-break it later so it could be set properly. She was not looking forward to that. Dorian’s left arm was limp and dislocated at the shoulder, and Cassandra had a nasty gash on her leg that a healing potion only half-closed. They couldn’t take much more of a beating. It was death by a thousand cuts.

She suddenly heard the whispers in her mind again, urgent and clipped in their formless words. Evelyn pushed them aside and threw another bolt of frost at the dragon’s snout, which it burned away with a puff of flame. The voices returned again, more urgent and refusing to go away. Evelyn allowed them to pull her focus away from the trial before her, if only for a moment. They showed her images and words, unformed yet clearer than the sky after a rainfall. The meaning flashed before her, burning its way into her mind again and again in as many forms as there were voices in her mind.

She suddenly understood what to do.

“Dorian!” she shouted. His head snapped toward her, his face exhausted, irritated, and desperate all at once. Sweat dripped from his chin and his brow was furrowed.

“Time!” she called. Clarity immediately flowed over his face.

“Give me five seconds without the flying lizard swatting me around,” he responded in a clipped voice, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Truthfully, she didn’t know what she was doing. But the voices told her to do something, and they hadn’t been wrong before. She suddenly realized just how little sanity was in that thought before she pushed it aside. She was fighting a dragon to gain its allegiance against a Darkspawn Magister that wanted to become a god. There was no sanity in any of that line of thought.

Cassandra and Bull pulled the dragon’s attention away from Dorian when they heard the short conversation. The ancient beast’s head turned to the two warriors as they danced circles around the larger entity, never hitting it but keeping it distracted all the same. Evelyn called the last of her mana into her chest in preparation for what she hoped would be the end of the test.

“Now!”

Time nearly stopped for all but the four of them. The motes of dust in the air seemed to freeze, and the dragon’s head slowed to a crawl. Evelyn released the energy in her chest, letting it propel her along the Veil like an arrow out of a bow. She shot toward the dragon’s snout as quickly as she could. Cassandra and Bull only just had time to dive out of her way as she immediately stopped herself directly in front of the dragon’s jaw. Even with the slowing of time, it was able to open its jaw and suck in a breath. She saw its throat glow with heat, felt the flames within its belly rolling over her like coals on a fire. But she ignored it. She reached up with her marked hand, standing on her toes to make contact with its snout.

The instant she did, she felt a connection snap between herself and the dragon, and she knew its true majesty. The dragon was no mere beast. No high dragon was, she realized. They were intelligent. Far more intelligent than any scholar dared give credit for. She could see it in the dragon’s eyes as Dorian’s spell dropped away and its pupils focused on her. Unspoken words were shared between the two of them. It asked why she needed its might, though it spoke through images rather than words. She explained, again in images rather than words. She showed it Corypheus, and the Breach, and what would happen to the world if they failed in their endeavor. She showed it the red lyrium dragon, and she showed how Mythal had brought her here to ask the dragon’s aid against it so they may destroy their mutual enemy. A moment of pause passed between them as all gathered held their breaths in shock and awe at what Evelyn was doing.

It agreed to help her. The flames in its throat went out, though its heat remained. The dragon dropped to its belly and bowed its head before her, and Evelyn felt a connection between them, fragile and thin as the hair of a horse but as strong as iron chains. The Anchor sparked once beneath her skin, sending tingles up her arm and between her eyes.

The dragon looked up at her once more; this time, Evelyn _did_ hear words. They were deep, rumbling, and majestic as they resonated in her mind, unspoken yet louder than any thunder the world had ever heard.

 _Call me once and only once, and I shall come_ , it said. The dragon turned its head upward and stood on its hind legs. It spread its wings to their full breadth and let out a bellowing roar like the sealing of an unspoken agreement. Evelyn felt triumph and glory unlike anything she had ever felt as she watched the Guardian of Mythal lift off from the earth without looking back at her. It beat its wings once, twice, and then it was airborne, leaving behind a cloud of dust that glittered in the light of the setting sun. She watched it soar away into the Wilds until it was out of sight, the feeling of majesty still lifting her up like the arms of a mother holding her child close.

That majesty came crashing down with her adrenaline. Her collar screamed in agony, and she let out a breathless gasp as her hand went to its bent and warped form.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cursed, “Bull, come break this and set it for me.”

The qunari man complied, stumbling over to where she stood. As he stood before her, she realized how injured he truly was. He would bear three new scars when everything healed – two in his abdomen and one on his cheek, just below his eyepatch. The bruising was dissipating as the healing potion he’d drank worked its magic, but it would still be some time before he was healed fully.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned. Evelyn nodded and bit down on her cowl. Bull gripped her warped clavicle and snapped it like a twig along the break. Evelyn let out a guttural scream of pain as stars danced along her vision, which only intensified as he set it properly. She dropped her staff in shock and pain and stumbled backward and sat in the grass, the stars dissipating only slightly. Dorian kneeled next to her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She felt the soothing flow of healing magic flow into her, along with the horrible burning of her bone mending itself back shut. He pulled his hand away and wiped his brow.

“That’s all I can do, I’m afraid,” Dorian breathed airily, “That Haste spell took quite a bit out of me.”

“Haste?” she asked weakly. The mage shrugged.

“It’s what I’ve decided to call that thig I do with time. Couldn’t think of a better name for it, truthfully.”

She took a healing potion from Casandra. “It’s a good name. I’ve just never heard you call it that before.” She knocked back the potion and let out a breath of relief, then grabbed her staff near its blade and cut a strip out of her cowl. She handed the cloth to Bull and he tied it into a sling, pulling it over her head as Evelyn gently lay her arm into the cradle it formed.

“Did it work? Whatever you did?” Cassandra asked nervously and through panting breaths. Grime and sweat mixed as beads of greyish-brown liquid fell from her face. Evelyn nodded.

“It’s bound to me,” Evelyn confirmed, “I can call it once, and it’ll come.”

“Then that’s it,” Bull laughed, spreading his arms, “We have everything we need to take down Corypheus.”

Evelyn sighed. “We can discuss that later. Right now, I want to go home.”

She stood and limped out of the grove with her friends without a second glance back at the altar or the grove.

She saw Erik and Leliana walking across the drawbridge into Skyhold just as she and her small team left the lift. It was hard to miss them, really: a woman in a chainmail skirt with a purple cowl with her arm wrapped around an absolutely massive redheaded man drawing said woman even closer into his side. She gave herself a small smile at the sight of them, not least of all because of the uneasiness the guards at the front gate showed as the two of them passed. They would be an intimidating couple to any that didn’t know them, she supposed. But she knew them. Erik was really just a puppy. A puppy that killed people for a living and joked about it, but sill, a puppy. Leliana on the other hand… she could see why people were afraid of her. Still, she didn’t intimidate Evelyn anymore. She’d calmed her eagerness for assassination significantly since she’d been with Erik.

She crossed the bridge wordlessly, simply happy to be that much closer to a bath and a warm bed. And Cullen, who, upon sighting him waiting for her in the courtyard, she felt her stress and dread over the ordeal at the altar drop away from her a bit. A smile crept over her lips involuntarily and she quickened her pace to meet him.

“I’d hug you, but I’m filthy,” she greeted. He let out a scoff.

“I’m a soldier. When have I ever cared about a little grime?” he asked as he pulled her close. She let herself get lost in his chest and threw her good arm around his midsection, then winced as he hugged her a bit too tightly.

“Ow. Arm,” she hissed. His arms immediately dropped away and he gazed down at her with worry.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“A dragon happened,” Dorian grunted. Evelyn gave a one-shouldered shrug and bounced her arm against her ribs aimlessly.

“That’s the gist of it. Dragon broke my collar. Had to re-break it and set it to heal it properly. It’s still a bit tender,” she explained.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Cullen said with hesitation.

“As am I,” Erik’s voice came from her left. She turned to face her brother and her Spymaster, who looked far less harsh than before she left with Erik for Val Chevin

“You have the dragon, I take it?” Leliana asked in a light tone. Evelyn nodded.

“It’s bound to me. I can call it once,” she confirmed. Erik frowned and dragged his eyes across her form.

“You look like shit,” he stated bluntly. Evelyn rolled her eyes and made a rude gesture.

“That’s what happens when you go to fight a dragon instead of taking a vacation to Orlais,” she drawled, “Speaking of, how was Val Chevin?”

“Amazing in more ways than one,” Erik smiled, lacing his fingers between Leliana’s.

A flash of metal came from both their hands as the lovers’ hands met. Evelyn frowned for a moment and thought to herself. Then her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped as she realized what she’d seen. She drew her face into a false scowl and wound up her good arm to punch him in the chest.

“You motherfucker! You didn’t _tell me_?!” she shouted between punches, “I thought we were siblings!”

“I wanted to keep it a secret – ow!”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Cassandra said hurriedly. Evelyn spun toward the Seeker and pointed at Erik and Leliana, both looking sheepish and embarrassed.

“They got married!” she barked. The others gathered all froze, their eyes wide in shock as Evelyn’s words sank in.

“Who got married?” an accented voice came from the stairs leading to the upper courtyard. Josephine approached with a confused look, glancing between Evelyn, Cassandra, Bull, Dorian, and Cullen. Evelyn stepped aside so she could see Erik and Leliana, and the Ambassador stopped in her tracks. She didn’t move for several moments, then, without warning, she threw her pen at the newlyweds with a light grunt.

“Leliana!” Josephine shouted. The Spymaster flinched at the tone her friend used and flinched again as the Antivan began storming toward her.

“Run?” she asked to Erik. He nodded.

“Run.”

They both darted as quickly as they could up the staircase along the wall, Josephine and Evelyn both furious and hot on their heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Master of Puppets by Metallica - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnKhsTXoKCI
> 
> I wanted to explore exactly _what_ it felt like to have your actions controlled by someone else. I don't know if I portrayed the sheer terror of what that would be like well enough, but it's the best I could do at the time. 
> 
> Shout out to Sulpicius for partly inspiring that section. Their take on vampiric compulsion within the Elder Scrolls universe is what gave me the idea to have Flemeth/Mythal do that to Evelyn. If y'all haven't read their work and you're into The Elder Scrolls, I highly recommend it. The fics are called Darkness With Light and Black Wings Unfurled - Darkness With Light is a retelling of Dawnguard, while Black Wings is a retelling of the Skyrim main questline. Both are absolutely phenomenal works.


	61. Shattering the Skies Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farewells are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert boilerplate copyright disclaimer here.

The two and a half weeks between Erik leaving and Erik returning passed quickly, followed by another week and a half of silence after the Inquisitor returned from the altar Flemeth had sent her to. Josephine and Evelyn still weren’t over him eloping with Leliana, though Aedan was largely content with the decision, largely because Leliana was happy; he, however, appeared to be the only other person that was aware of Erik’s plan to propose to Leliana before he’d left for Val Chevin. That irritated quite a few people, though moreso due to not being there for whatever small ceremony they’d held than Erik and Leliana actually tying the knot.

Truthfully, Aedan couldn’t waste much of his energy on the debacle and uproar their absconding had caused. He was more invested in taking care of Kieran and teaching Rainier and Vivienne how to be Wardens. Nathaniel was taking care of most of that – the benefits of being in charge meant he didn’t actually have to do much other than make a few speeches. Velanna had explained that they couldn’t receive the Cure until at least a year or two into their service. Something about the Blight progressing to a certain point, which he didn’t understand and was promptly teased by Morrigan for not understanding.

Even with her teasing, she was more focused on Kieran, as well. He had changed for the better. Morrigan had relaxed her mother hen tendencies and allowed him to run around the castle largely unsupervised when she was not teaching him, though it took some convincing from Aedan to let their son have that freedom.

“He’s a kid,” Aedan argued, “Let him be a kid.”

“Something might happen to him. I will not allow that,” Morrigan had refused.

“Skyhold is arguably the safest place in the world for him to be. Who’s going to harass him?” he pointed out, “All the Templars are down in the valley and the castle is filled with the most dangerous people the world has ever seen for three Ages–”

“That’s exactly my point, Aedan,” she snapped.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Aedan shook his head, “None of them would harm a child. Erik alone would tear the spine out of anyone that even looked at him oddly. Not to mention Leliana’s agents in the castle. Or Leliana herself. Or Evelyn. Or Bull. Or Cole. Or any of my Wardens. Or–”

“I understand the point,” Morrigan huffed before taking a moment to think, “Fine. He may wander the castle. But the first sign he’s in any danger at all…”

“He’ll be fine, love,” Aedan reassured, “Let him be a kid.”

Aedan and Morrigan both gazed out their bedroom window and down into the garden, where Kieran was currently riding on the shoulders of Captain Adaar while holding a toy sword as she chased a group of children around Kieran’s age around the paths throughout the area. Rabbit was dancing circles around Adaar’s feet as she stomped through the courtyard, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Morrigan tensed at the sight of Kieran six and a half feet off the ground before Aedan laid a hand on her shoulder.

“He’s fine,” he soothed, bringing his lips to the nape of her neck, “Come spend time with me before I have to check on the Wardens.”

“Oh? And what shall that time be spent doing, I wonder?” she hummed after a moment.

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Aedan smiled, pulling his witch closer to him. He dragged her to the bed, though just to be closer to her than anything.

Aedan found Leliana at work in the rookery later that day, her head in her hand as she read over a small scroll. He leaned against the desk and studied her. She was looking slightly pale.

“Are you alright?” he asked worriedly. She glanced up at him briefly.

“I’m okay. Just a bit nauseous,” she reassured.

“Did you speak to someone about it?” he asked.

“Solas gave me a spiced tea that would help,” she gestured toward the steaming cup sitting atop a heat rune, “It seems to be helping, though it’s only been twenty minutes.”

“Don’t run yourself into the ground if you’re not feeling well. I don’t want you collapsing from exhaustion.”

“I’m fine, Aedan,” she rolled her eyes endearingly, “I _am_ a grown woman.”

“And a married one, too,” Aedan grinned, “How did that happen?”

“I have no idea,” she smiled fondly, “I went from having my knife at someone’s throat to being asked for my hand in marriage in one day. It was quite the emotional whiplash.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Absolutely not,” she laughed, “Erik is amazing. You don’t have to go feeding him to any ogres any time soon. Yes, he told me about that.”

“Of course he did,” he sighed, his face turning to a frown, “What’s this about having a knife to someone’s throat?”

“It was about that letter I received from Justinia. She released me from her service, but there was an agent of a rival Chantry Mother at the cloister. Erik had to convince me not to kill her.”

“Do you regret _that_?”

“No. Valence was something of a… rebirth for me, I suppose. Though Josie’s positively beside herself. I will never hear the end of it," her voice became an uncanny imitation of Josephine, "Niceness before knives, Leliana. Haven't I always told you?"

Aedan let out a laugh. “That does sound like something she’d say.”

“You know her well, then,” she shook her head, “But I digress. Had Erik not been with me at Valence, I would have killed the woman. I'd have told you that I didn't have a choice, but there is always a choice. I am more than this. I am more than what Justinia made me."

"Do you resent Justinia for what she did?" Aedan asked after a moment of thought.

Leliana shook her head. "How can I when there is so much between us, when she gave her life for peace? No, I believe her intentions were pure. Most intentions are."

Aedan frowned at that. “Erik once said something to me. Something along the line of ‘the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.’ I don’t know what ‘Hell’ is, but it doesn’t seem like a good place.”

“It’s one of the afterlives in Earth’s primary religion. A place of torment for the wicked,” Leliana explained, “He’s right, though Justinia did what was necessary at the time. I find no fault in her decisions, even if it led me down a rather dark path for a time.”

Aedan nodded at her conclusion and thought for a time about what had apparently transpired during Erik and Leliana’s holiday. He was relieved that it had happened, truthfully. He missed his friend from the Blight. She seemed to have found a happy medium between her duty and herself, which was a good thing. She was very close to losing herself.

“I’m glad you’ve found peace,” he smiled.

“As am I. I nearly lost myself.”

“Thank the Maker you didn’t,” Erik’s voice drifted toward them as he approached, “We could have had the murder pope if you’d lost yourself.”

“What’s a pope?” Aedan asked in confusion.

“Leader of the church back on Earth. Think the Divine.”

Aedan nodded, surprised at how similar Thedas and Earth were despite their stark differences. He supposed it helped Erik during his transitionary period between the two worlds, even if it wasn’t a difficult transition to begin with.

“I can’t be Divine anymore,” Leliana said to Erik, bringing Aedan out of his ruminations, “We’re married. I already sent a letter to the Grand Cathedral informing them of the development.”

“Oh,” Erik blinked, “I don’t know how I missed that. Better for me, though. I don’t have to worry about losing you to the Chantry, anymore.”

“I would have simply changed the rules about relationships within the clergy,” the Orlesian shrugged, “I’d have been in charge. Andraste could have a mortal spouse and be wed to the Maker. Why couldn’t the Divine?”

“That’s… fair,” Aedan acquiesced after a moment, not realizing how he didn’t draw that conclusion prior, “Regardless, if you’re no longer a candidate to be Divine, who else is left?”

“Cassandra,” Erik declared, “She’s going to be Divine. I guarantee it.”

“And what will she be like as Divine?” Leliana asked curiously. Erik sat next to her and frowned in thought at the question.

“From what I know, she’ll be rather fair. Some serious reform will occur. I don’t remember if she disbands the Templars. I know you would have, judging from the circumstances.”

“You know me well, then,” she hummed. Erik gave a small smile and continued.

“The Circles will be reformed, unless we can convince her to disband them entirely. Her reasoning is that they have their place but require complete overhaul. She’ll reform the Seekers, too.”

“And the Inquisition?” Aedan asked. Erik froze. It was all he needed to conclude that whatever happened to the Inquisition, it would not be good in the end.

“The Inquisition… will largely not need to worry about the Chantry,” the spirit-man said after a moment, “There are other forces in its future that will play a much larger role.”

Leliana frowned at her husband and studied his face, though after his brief stumble, he gave nothing away. She grunted in frustration and shook her head before taking a drink of her tea.

“Another one of your secrets you must keep?” Aedan asked. Erik nodded.

“Just until Corypheus is defeated. Then you all can pick my brain as much as you want. The future is too delicate until then.”

“And when will that be?”

Erik didn’t get a chance to explain. A courier approached the three, giving a bow and standing before them stiffly.

“Pardon me Warden-Commander, Champion, Sister,” she said in a thick Antivan accent, “The Inquisitor has called a War Room meeting. Ambassador Montilyet has sent me to inform you.”

Leliana nodded. “Tell her we’ll be down in a moment.”

The courier nodded and descended the staircase. Both Leliana and Erik stood to head for the meeting. Erik planted a quick peck on her cheek and began to leave; his wife raised an eyebrow at him.

“I need to go grab something from our apartments,” he explained, “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

“I shall see you there, then,” Leliana smiled. Erik descended the stairs and headed for the Inquisitor’s Tower. Aedan watched him leave with a frown.

“What could he need?”

“I have no idea,” she admitted, “But if he went to retrieve something, it must be important. He never does this.”

Aedan nodded. “I’ll fetch Morrigan, if she hasn’t been informed. I’ll speak to you later.”

* * *

Evelyn was not liking what Erik was doing. He was sitting at the War Table, his rifle completely disassembled, cleaning each and every individual piece meticulously with a rag and oil. To make it worse, he was wearing armor. It was almost reminiscent of the Fall of Haven, when he had prepared for the attack without informing anyone. It was a dead giveaway that something was coming, though he had assured her that they would never be attacked at Skyhold.

"You have what you need, then, to match Corypheus’s dragon?" Leliana asked as she glanced nervously at her husband. It was still an odd thing to think about, that Erik had married Leliana. It would take some getting used to. She pushed the thought aside and focused on the matter at hand; namely, Corypheus and his pet.

"I have it,” she assured her Spymaster, “I can call the dragon exactly once. So we have one chance at killing him.”

"Then all that remains is to find Corypheus before he comes to us," Cullen said anxiously, rubbing at the pommel of his sword like a worry stone.

“He won’t come to us,” Erik murmured as he held the disassembled barrel of his rifle up to the light and gazed down the bore, “We’re safe here… relatively speaking.”

“The fact remains that the Magister must be found, regardless of whether he attacks Skyhold directly” Morrigan shrugged. Erik nodded his agreement and ran a line of rope wrapped tightly in copper through the barrel.

"We've been looking for his base since all this began, with no success," Leliana growled in frustration, “It’s almost as if he simply vanishes when he isn’t causing trouble.”

"His dragon must come and go from somewhere," Cullen argued. Evelyn had to agree with him. It would be impossible to hide something so large in plain sight.

The table grew silent save for the rhythmic scraping and rubbing of Erik cleaning his rifle as they each fell into deep thought of where Corypheus could possibly be holed up at. Leliana began tapping a marker on the wood in thought, her face growing more and more irritated for every minute passed with no resolution reached. Cullen’s eyes were darting across the map of Thedas, raking across every nation and every region in hopes of coming up with something. Even Morrigan was clearly frustrated, her fingers drumming on her arm as she scowled down at the map. Evelyn reached for the voices, but they were clueless, as well.

"What about the Deep Roads?" Josephine suddenly suggested, breaking the silence, "We could send word to Orzammar, hire envoys to–”

Evelyn’s hand suddenly sparked as the Anchor flared to life, angry like it hadn’t been since the Breach opened. Green light filled the sky outside and flooded through the windows, washing the War Room with the colors of the Fade. Five of the faces in the room turned to stare in shock and horror at the clouds in the distance; one was furiously throwing their weapon back together. Evelyn felt fear and rage tangling together in equal measure as she gazed at the source of the green light outside.

The Breach had reopened. And it was twice as large as before. Angry green clouds swirled like a maelstrom in the distance, pulling all clouds elsewhere with it in a death spiral.

“No,” Leliana murmured, “No, no, no, no…”

“Right,” Erik stood with determination and loaded a magazine into his rifle, “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Josephine blinked in shock. Erik looked at her strangely, his entire body tense.

“To the Valley of Sacred Ashes,” he said, turning to Evelyn.

“Corypheus is _there_?” Evelyn asked in shock. Erik nodded.

“Either we kill him now and you close the Breach, or it swallows the world,” he said quickly.

“But… that’s insane! Wouldn’t that kill Corypheus, as well?” Josephine sputtered.

“Do you truly believe he even cares at this point?” Morrigan shrugged, “This is clearly a desperate act of a man out of options.”

“Ev. We have to go. _Now_ ,” Erik stressed.

“Inquisitor, we have no forces to send with you,” Cullen informed her, though it sounded more like a plea, “They’re either recuperating from the battle or still returning from the Arbor Wilds.”

Evelyn chewed her lip nervously. She understood Cullen would want her to wait, but…

“There’s no time. If I don’t have support, I’ll face him alone,” she said with a dry mouth. Her words sounded like a death sentence as they left her lips. She glanced toward Erik, whose face had set into a grim visage. He turned toward her and shook his head.

“Not alone,” he reassured. Her brother grabbed her by the shoulder and started her in her movement. Once her feet began to move, she doubted she would be able to get them to stop.

Evelyn was saddling Epona as the denizens of Skyhold panicked. Mothers cradled their children, lovers hugged one another, and at least half of the people gathered had fallen to their knees to pray. The rest of the Inner Circle was frantically moving to prepare themselves, their mounts, and their allies. Packs were filled with healing potions, lyrium potions, balms, waterskins, and nothing else. Arrows and crossbow bolts were thrown to those using ranged weapons, blades were strapped to those using blades, and staves were readied by the mages. Those who were Andrastian were receiving blessings from Mother Giselle – one final loose end, in case the worst should befall them.

Everything stopped, however, when a deafening boom echoed through the mountains. Several windows shattered from the force of it, and the more terrified screamed their doom at the sound. Evelyn even began to panic, and turned to Erik to see if he knew what it was.

“It’s just the shockwave of the Breach opening,” he explained, “Sound travels slower than light. It took time to get here. I don’t want to know what it sounded like in the Valley of Sacred Ashes, though.”

She nodded and returned to her final preparations. A hand on her shoulder stopped her. She turned to see Cullen gazing down at her with nothing but worry in his eyes.

“I don’t like this,” Cullen protested, “It would be wiser to wait, to–”

“I appreciate your need to protect me, Cullen, but be realistic,” she said as she turned back to her saddle, “We can’t wait. We wait, we die. Not just myself, and Erik, and everyone else going to fight right now, but the entire world. Even if we ride as fast as we can, it’s at least a day and a half to the Valley. We may not make it in time.”

“I know,” Cullen sighed, his voice defeated, “I just… I’ve never been so terrified before in my life.”

“Because the world is about to end?”

“Because I may never get to see you again.”

Evelyn turned back to him and gave a sad smile. She took his hands gently in hers despite the pain it caused her marked hand and looked up into his amber eyes.

“I swear to you, I’ll be back,” she promised, meaning every word, “I’m not going to leave you like this.”

“You can’t promise that,” Cullen said, his voice breaking, “Even so… I want you to know that it’s been worth it. Every moment.”

She stood on her toes and gave him a gentle, loving kiss. When she pulled away, there were tears on both their cheeks. She wasn’t sure who cried first.

“I love you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Then she swung herself atop Epona and adjusted her staff. She nodded to the rest of the Inner Circle behind her and stared ahead toward the bridge.

“I love you,” was the last thing she heard from Cullen.

* * *

Aedan and Morrigan were prepared to fight, just as they had long before at Denerim. They were not prepared to leave behind their son. It was the hardest thing Aedan ever had to do. Kieran stood before him, Rabbit beside him, and stared up at both of his parents as they prepared to ride to face the root of evil.

“Will you come back?” was all he asked, terrified. Aedan’s heart broke and he knelt down in front of his son, just as Morrigan did the same.

“Of course we will,” Aedan promised, “We’d never leave you behind like that. But your mother and I have to help the Inquisitor.”

“I know,” Kieran nodded, “I just don’t want you to go.”

“Kieran, my little man,” Morrigan said, more sweetness in her voice than Aedan had ever heard, “We don’t want to leave, either. But some things must be done.”

“You’ll both be okay,” Kieran said, pushing away his fear in a moment that belied his age, “I know you will. Want to know how I know?”

“How?” Aedan asked, half curious and half entertaining him.

“He told me. Right before He left. He said I would know when to tell you.”

Aedan froze. “What did… He… want to tell you?”

“He said that he respected you. Both of you,” Kieran said, “You, mother, for your knowledge and for protecting me so fiercely. He said you were special. A better person than you thought yourself. That you’d grown since he had first seen you.”

Morrigan was struck silent at Kieran’s words. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. Kieran turned to Aedan, who waited in apprehension and worry.

“And He said that He had never seen a finer warrior than you, father,” his son continued, “In all His years, He’d never seen anyone fight with such strength, wit, or fury. He said that you were a fine opponent. Greater than all the others that had felled his brethren. One that He would never forget.”

Aedan didn’t know what to say. To have the respect of something as ancient as an Old God was equal parts humbling and disturbing.

“He was stronger when you faced Him than what you’re about to face, you know,” Kieran added, “We discussed it often once mother brought us to the Inquisition. The Magister pales in comparison to when you faced Him in Denerim. That’s how I know you’ll come back. If a god couldn’t stop you, a false one won’t either.”

Aedan placed his hand on his boy’s shoulder. His sweet, beautiful, brilliant boy, wise beyond his years and more precious than all the gold in the world. What he ever did to be blessed with him or his mother, he had no idea. But blessed he was.

“I promise I will live up to the respect He gave me,” Aedan said, his already gruff voice clipping with emotion, “And I will make you proud. I love you.”

“I love you, too father, but you already make me proud,” Kieran smiled, “How could you not?”

Aedan felt a tear stream down his cheek. He pulled his son in for a hug and ran his fingers through his lengthening hair. Kieran returned the embrace gratefully; Aedan wasn’t ready to leave when he pulled away and planted a kiss on the boy’s brow. Kieran turned to his mother, then.

“Thank you for everything, mother,” he said, “I love you. I know you’ll keep father safe, and he’ll keep you safe.”

Morrigan choked for a moment. “Little man, I…”

Kieran wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist and buried the side of his head in her stomach. Aedan watched as Morrigan broke, running her hand along his scalp as silent tears streamed down her face. She knelt in front of him and ran her thumb along his cheek.

“I am so proud to be your mother,” she said in a resolute but gently tone. Kieran smiled and backed away.

“I love you, mother,” he smiled, his already raspy voice growing slightly coarser.

“I love you, too, Kieran,” she said. Aedan and Morrigan gave one final hug to Kieran and Aedan faced Rabbit.

“Keep him safe, buddy.” Rabbit huffed in an affirmative tone and puffed his chest out, if a dog could even do such a thing.

Their farewells said, Aedan left his son with Rabbit in the courtyard and pulled Morrigan away and toward where their mounts waited with the rest of the Inner Circle. She let a single sob escape her, and Aedan wrapped his arm around her tightly.

“We’re going to be okay,” he assured her. Morrigan scoffed.

“I’m not worried for _us_ , you idiot man,” she chastised, “I’m worried for Kieran. We should be staying here. Protecting him.”

“We can protect him by helping the Inquisitor kill Corypheus,” Aedan said as he helped her into her saddle. He swung himself into his own mount and adjusted Starfang on his side. Morrigan merely nodded and straightened herself in her saddle, and Aedan watched her force her emotions down and away from her as she stared at the bridge before them.

With a broken heart and with tears threatening to overwhelm him, Aedan did the same as his wife beside him and prepared to kill a pale imitation of the greatest foe he had ever faced in his life. He knew he would succeed - he had already killed the real thing and spat in its face. He would crush the imitation beneath his heel and return to his son. Because he could.

* * *

Erik had taken the liberty of preparing everything _before_ Corypheus reopened the Breach. Which was partly a mistake, because now he was frantically helping everyone else prepare and adding even more unneeded stress to himself. Skyhold had become an absolute madhouse. It was absolute chaos. People were running and screaming in terror nearly half an hour after the Breach had reopened. Erik didn’t even bother to try and help them. They could be helped by killing Corypheus and closing the Breach.

He threw Bull his hammer and shoulder pads and filled three waterskins for himself, Hawke, and Isabela. It was the last thing he could aid with. He moved back to Isaac, where the horse was eagerly pawing the ground. He fed the stallion an apple and patted his neck affectionately when Leliana approached. Despite her calm façade, he could tell she was absolutely terrified.

“I wish there was more time,” Erik said sadly before she could begin. Leliana shook her head and smiled.

“I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand,” she responded shakily. Erik drew her in tightly and buried his nose in her scalp. He took in a deep breath of her scent, burning it forever in his mind. She pulled away slightly and planted a kiss on his lips, hard and desperate.

“Just tell me one thing,” she insisted, “Will you succeed?”

“Yes,” Erik swore.

“Because you’ve seen it before?” she asked worriedly.

“No. Because I said we’re going to,” he smiled reassuringly, “I’m made of will, remember? My drive becomes reality. That’s how this works.”

She frowned. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It’s how it works because I say that’s how it works,” he shook his head, “We’re going to go to the Valley of Sacred Ashes, beat that dragon to death, beat Corypheus to a pulp, then tear him apart, bit by bit. Then Evelyn’s going to close the Breach. I promise.”

She sniffled. “As long as you promise.”

“Leliana, look at me. I’m riding into battle with the strongest warriors of the age. We have the Hero of Ferelden, the Champion of Kirkwall, four incredibly skilled mages, two spirits, a woman that’s basically a brick wall, an accomplished military captain, two extremely deadly rogues, a pirate queen, a man who gets aroused by fighting dragons, and a woman blessed by the Maker himself. We’re going to win.”

“I believe you,” she nodded, “Just be careful. If you die, I’ll personally bring you back to kill you myself.”

Erik didn’t respond to her quip. He had no response.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, her voice on the verge of tears. He planted one last, fiery kiss on her lips and threw himself into Isaac’s saddle. He glanced down at his wife one final time.

“Come back to me,” she pleaded.

“Always.”

It was the final word between the two. The Inner Circle launched out of Skyhold like jets from a carrier, being dragged along their path by an invisible slingshot that propelled them to their destiny. The guardsmen had already prepared and cleared the lift, the fifteen of them just barely fitting between the doors.

The lift dropped at a rate Erik had never felt before. It made the mounts nervous, save for Bull’s nuggalope, which seemed as eager as he was. The silence was tense in the darkness of the tower as they descended, the only light coming from Evelyn’s flickering mark. Each foot lower brought more and more apprehension to everyone in the lift. Erik took a deep breath to calm himself and turned to Evelyn on his left, their legs touching from how close together their mounts were. He gave her a small reassuring smile she could not see in the dark and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, knowing it was him.

The lift slowed suddenly and came to a halt, the gates already open. Epona whinnied, reared up on her hind legs, and bolted out the door. Isaac followed immediately afterward, whipping Erik into the cold midday mountain air. Wordlessly, the rest of the Inner Circle lurched out of the lift behind them at breakneck pace. They darted through New Haven, all faces along the road a blur and any words they might say lost in the wind. The cold was burning on Erik’s cheeks and ears, but he paid it no mind. He threw all worldly connections from his person and let himself fall into his combat mindset once more: that cold, calculating, ruthless mentality that allowed for no hesitation, nor fear, nor mercy. He allowed himself to be stripped of his humanity and his personality, his hopes and dreams and aspirations and loves and grudges falling away like chains falling from a freed prisoner, lightening him and freeing him from his apprehensions. He allowed himself to become an instrument of war and death, and nothing else.

He did not look back at what he had briefly left behind. All that mattered to him were the road in front of him, his targets waiting for him, and his brothers and sisters around him. All that was behind him were the ghosts of his brothers he had lost, pushing him forward as he rode to the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Shattering the Skies Above by Trivium - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eoUf1bbMTa8
> 
> We're nearing the end now. Actually, scratch that. I might pull a Tolkien and write a super long ending that wraps a bunch of shit up. Who the hell knows? I only half-planned this thing to begin with.


	62. Hail the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition rides for the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this went up way, way faster than I'd anticipated. It's also a bit shorter (all three chapters come out to ~12,400 words) but I'm relatively happy with it. Only so many ways you can say "this dude got fucked up" and "they smacked a thing" until it gets redundant.
> 
> All characters and dialogue from Dragon Age are the sole property of EA/BioWare.

They only stopped once during their ride, and only to water the horses and to sleep for a couple hours. The horses weren’t exhausted, thanks to small restoration spells from the mages, but they still needed to drink water, and the Inner Circle weren’t immortal… mostly. And even Erik needed to sleep, which both irked and relieved him. The benefit of his necessity of sleep was that he could find Leliana in the Fade and speak to her, albeit briefly. He merely reassured her they were alright and making good time to the Valley of Sacred Ashes. More than that, there were no other words to be said. He merely held his wife in the strange airs of the Fade and let her presence calm him. That alone was enough.

During his waking hours he made plans for when they faced both Corypheus and the red lyrium dragon. Corypheus was, ironically, the simpler of the two to plan for: kill the dragon, then wear him down and corner him at the top of the Black City facsimile he would create and let Evelyn tear him to pieces. It was the dragon that could potentially cause the most problems for them. Evelyn claimed they hadn’t done any real damage to the dragon and that they had merely annoyed and distracted it, which was good. It was already a head start from the game – the Guardian of Mythal was likely wounded when it faced the red lyrium dragon. If it didn’t die, it would be a huge boon to them. More than that, Erik had put out one of the eyes on Corypheus’s pet back at Haven, which meant it had a massive impairment that would work to their advantage. And if the dragon sat still long enough, he could shoot out the other one, meaning it would have to rely on sound and scent to see attacks coming. He only doubted whether or not it would actually stay still long enough for him to actually blind it entirely. But if he could manage it…

Erik thought about the possibility of not even having to fight the dragon at all, if he could blind it entirely. If it couldn’t see, the Guardian would almost certainly handle it easily. Even without complete blindness, half a predator’s sight left it at a severe disadvantage that they could work to their success. But another problem arose in regards to the dragon: the Blight. What they were undertaking was not a video game, nor was it a story. The dragon was infected with red lyrium, which had the Blight. Anybody that killed it was liable to contract the disease, meaning they would have to rush back to Skyhold and hope there was still enough Archdemon blood left to undergo yet _another_ impromptu Joining, which likely wasn’t an option at all. So that left five people that could kill it: Vivienne, Rainier, Aedan, Cole, and himself. Of those five, Vivienne was too lightly armored to take a direct blow from a dragon, and Rainier was powerful enough to kill it, but he was slow, making him an easy target. Cole could potentially have troubles with Corypheus attempting to bind him, though they would fail. Erik had no idea if the Magister would even recognize him as a spirit, but if he did, that could throw another complication into the mix.

Which left Aedan. He was undeniably the most skilled combatant they had with them. He had faced overwhelming odds and walked away without a scratch. He had killed an Archdemon – a true Archdemon – and lived to tell the tale. And the red lyrium dragon was not an Archdemon. It was weaker, softer, slower, less intelligent, and, from what Leliana had said, far smaller than Urthemiel was. So his tactical decision was made. Aedan would likely have to kill the dragon, if the Guardian didn’t do the job for them. Of course, that was likely going to be turned on its head, as was the inevitable fate of all plans for combat, but the base principle still remained. No matter how much damage they did to the red lyrium dragon, Aedan would likely be the one to deliver its death.

And despite Erik’s relatively straightforward plan for dealing with Corypheus himself, it was almost certainly easier said than done. It would likely be a long, brutal fight. If too many people were taken out too soon, they would lose. If Corypheus was stronger than they were anticipating, they would lose. If they got to the Breach too late, they would lose. There were far too many factors to properly prepare for in such a short window of time.

Erik decided to throw his planning out the window and go with a far simpler one. Smack everything that stood in their way until it died. He liked that plan. It was simple and allowed for quite a bit of improvisation. It was the plan he was going to go with.

He only got to truly speak to everyone once, when they stopped to rest and water the horses. Evelyn approached him with nervous eyes as he was wiping dust off his rifle.

“What can we expect when we get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes?” she asked. Erik thought for a moment, then stood and called everyone in. Once the rest of the Circle was paying attention, he began to speak.

“Alright, listen up,” he said, “This is going to be an odd fight, even for us. Corypheus is going to pull the Temple from the mountain and bring it into the air, so don’t expect any support other than ourselves if there’s anyone else in the area. The Guardian of Mythal – our dragon – died in the story I knew, but it was also wounded from the fight with the Inquisitor when I saw it. It’s completely healthy here. On top of that, I shot out one of the eyes of the red lyrium dragon back at Haven, so it’s fighting at a disadvantage. The Guardian might be able to take it down without our help. If it doesn’t, it’ll fall on us to finish the job.

“Be that as it may, it’s still infected with red lyrium, which has the Blight. That means only five people can really get near it without fear of getting infected: myself, Cole, Vivienne, Thom, and Aedan. The five of us should be the ones to focus on the dragon. The rest of you keep any demons that Corypheus summons off our backs and keep the Magister himself distracted. Mages and ranged weapon users, if you want to help us with the dragon from a distance, feel free. Once it dies, Corypheus will be vulnerable and desperate. Corner him and bring him down.”

He turned to the Dread Wolf. “You’re the Fade expert. Anything you want to add?”

Solas nodded. “This Breach is significantly larger and significantly more unstable than the original. For the mages, expect your magic to be strengthened significantly. The same goes for Corypheus, unfortunately. Inquisitor, I doubt you will be able to close the Breach with the Anchor alone. You must retrieve the orb from Corypheus to seal the Breach. We must do this as quickly as we can. If it reaches a critical point, I doubt the Breach will be sealable even with the aid of the orb.”

“Hold on,” Hawke interjected, “If we’re going to be flying, I imagine the Temple will be in the air due to the extra magic from the Fade. What happens when it closes?”

Erik winced. “It’ll fall, and that means we’ll fall with it. For those of you near the lower parts of the Temple, jump when you see Evelyn close the Breach. If it’s too far, lay down as flat as you can and hold on to something. Protect your neck and head, and pray to whatever god you believe in that we don’t fucking die.”

There was nervous silence after that. Erik shrugged at Evelyn’s glare. What did she want him to say? That it would be a cakewalk? No, he was going to be honest. There was a chance they were all about to die.

“Well, what a wonderful picture you’ve just painted for us,” Marian huffed.

“Did you want me to lie? To tell you the fight would be easy? I won’t do that. I want to be honest with all of you. If that means hinting at our chance of death, then so be it,” Erik snapped.

“Enough,” Evelyn ordered, “We can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves right now. We’re less than a day out from the Temple. Get some rest, all of you. When we ride again, we ride hard and we won’t stop until we’re in the Valley.

* * *

Evelyn sat next to Erik not thirty minutes before everyone else was to wake. She only slept for a couple hours, just as he had, but it was enough. She was restless. The anchor was searing with so much pain that it had desensitized her to it. Her eyes kept getting dragged to the swirling green maelstrom about the Frostback mountaintops. Erik’s little speech did nothing to assuage her worries that she may not survive the coming fight. But she kept those worries down; it would do no good for the Inner Circle to see their leader so terrified. She had to keep a strong face, even among friends.

But Erik did not care. So she found herself sitting beside him, staring up into the Breach in the distance. They were silent for a while, merely watching the churning green clouds above. Eventually Evelyn spoke

“Are we going to die?” she asked quietly. She saw him turn to her out of the corner of her eye.

“No. We’re going to go up there, kill everything on that mountain, and then go home and get laid,” he responded in a light voice.

“I don’t know how you cam be so sure,” she admitted. Erik grabbed her forearm, pulling her gaze away from the Breach.

“Because I believe in you,” he said, “I have more than trust in you. I have assurance. I have fought by your side for almost a year and a half. We’ve survived avalanches, dragons, battles, and the Fade together. Do you really think a spoiled Darkspawn is going to stop us if he steps in the way of something?”

She chuckled. “No… no, I suppose he won’t be able to stop us.” She paused, looking back on the year and a half since the Conclave. How she had gone from timid, terrified and clueless to facing a would-be god during an apocalypse of the false god’s own making.

“Ev, I can tell when you’re thinking about something heavy,” Erik sighed, “I know we had that fight, but I didn’t really handle that situation well. I overreacted. You’re still my sister in all but blood. Talk to me.”

“I just…” she sighed in defeat, “I was thinking about how this all started. How I was scared of it all and just wanted everything to stop so I could go hide in a dark place. Here we are a year and a half later, and I’m still terrified.”

Erik frowned at her words and his brow furrowed in thought. She wondered what was going through his mind, then, and whether he was choosing his words or simply mulling over what she had said. Either way, she knew he would speak when he was ready. He always did.

“Do you remember before Adamant, when I shared the Litany Against Fear?”

“I know,” she nodded, “‘Fear is the mind killer.’”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t feel afraid,” Erik continued, “Don’t you think I’m scared? I know only a story, Evelyn. I don’t completely know the future. I have no idea what’s about to happen. We could all run off and die on that mountain, or we could walk away triumphant; I have no idea. And that scares the shit out of me. I just married the woman of my dreams. I want to spend the rest of my days with her. I want to have the option of raising a family with her. And I don’t know if that will happen.

“Look at Morrigan and Aedan. They had to leave Kieran back at Skyhold, and there’s no guarantee either of them will ever see him again. Or you, with Cullen. You had to leave him behind, too. That’s a scary thought. Leaving your loved ones or your children behind so they could have a better future.”

Evelyn frowned at his brief lecture. She wasn’t sure where it was going, or if he was just rambling to make himself feel better about what they were facing.

“Erik, I know everyone is scared,” she sighed, “I don’t know why you’re pointing it out.”

“Because the fact that everyone left to do what needed to be done shows something that I hold a deep respect for. It shows courage.”

She turned more fully toward him in confusion. His eyes were brighter than their normal glowing blue hue – if she could even call that normal, at all. But they were brighter than normal for him.

“I don’t know if a lot of people actually realize what courage is,” he began slowly, “It’s the will do undertake something even though you’re scared to do it. It isn’t charging fearlessly into a battle. It’s staring at a burning building, heart pounding in your chest and your knees shaking with fear, and walking into the inferno anyways because there’s a child trapped in there, and no one else is going to do anything about it. It’s seeing your friend, shot and bleeding on a mountainside, and running to save them because you love them and you aren’t going to leave them behind. It’s facing someone who beat you or abused you even though the trauma of that incident is still fresh in your mind. It’s the greatest kind of will there is. The one that you force yourself to have, even in the face of danger.

“That is what every person here is displaying. Fear beyond anything most of you have ever felt, juxtaposed with the knowledge that you need to face that fear because if you don’t, everybody else that’s cowering will die. The amount of respect I have for all of you, because of what I am, is indescribable.”

Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t feel like it’s necessarily respectable. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this needs to be done.”

Erik gave her a small smile. “And that makes it all the more honorable.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. It wasn’t something she really thought about; some things just had to be done. She had learned that during her time in the Inquisition. But she had never looked at it from an outsiders’ perspective looking in, and while Erik wasn’t an outsider and had never exactly been one to her, his explanation suddenly made her understand why so many people looked to her as some sort of beacon.

The fact remained, however, that she didn’t feel like a hero and was still terrified by the prospect of facing Corypheus.

“We’re going to make it out alright, aren’t we?” she asked after a minute. Erik shook his head.

“I can’t answer that. Not because of some fear of the timeline, but because I don’t know,” he said, “All bets are off with this one. But I can tell you this – I’m going to fight like hell and stretch myself thin to watch everyone’s backs. If everyone else does the same, we’re going to come out of this okay.”

She nodded. Not the answer that would soothe her nerves, but an honest one. That was enough for her.

* * *

Aedan wasn’t worried. He had faced far worse odds than a cranky old man and a diseased dragon with only one eye. He was moreso angry that he had to leave Kieran again and that it had cause Morrigan undue stress than anything. So he decided he was going to make it as quick as he could: he had more experience fighting dragons than angry old men, even if said angry old man was a Darkspawn. If the Guardian of Mythal didn’t do the job, he would stab the dragon to death, and if there was time left, he would help out with the Magister, as well. But the dragon came first. The fact that it even existed made him angry.

Morrigan was unnaturally tense during their short rest. She didn’t say anything at first, but he knew she was fretting over Kieran. She hadn’t left his general vicinity his entire life, and leaving for such a serious and potentially deadly reason was clearly eating at her. She almost said as much when she finally spoke.

“Do you think Kieran is alright?” she asked him nervously. Aedan grunted and shifted his weight off the rock his rib had found.

“He’ll be fine,” Aedan reassured, “I saw him find one of the friends he’s made before we left. He’ll likely stay with her parents while we’re facing the Magister.”

“Which friend?” Morrigan asked defensively, “The Marcher girl? The one whose mother is a Templar?”

“And whose father is a mage,” Aedan reminded his wife, “Kieran will be fine. I promise you.”

“And what about us?” she continued, “We haven’t seen a battle like this since Denerim. What if–”

“The fact that we’ve seen anything like this before _at all_ makes us more prepared. Of anyone here, you and I are the most versed in facing world-ending threats.”

She was silent for a minute, and Aedan let himself have a small smile at the quiet. It meant she was pouting over the fact that he was right, which was a rarer occasion than he would like to admit.

“I hate it when you’re right, you know,” she huffed, confirming what he already knew.

“I know,” Aedan laughed, pulling her closer into his chest, “You’re not wrong to worry, though. We’re the only ones here that have a child. He should always come first.”

“Should we have even come at all?” Aedan glanced down at where she had buried her head in his chest and sighed.

“As much as you like to give off an air of disinterest, I know you wouldn’t have forgiven yourself if you’d stayed behind. And you know that when I get involved in something, I have to see it through. I wouldn’t deprive the Inquisitor of my sword arm.”

“I know. You truly are a miserable, selfish bastard, sometimes.”

Aedan smiled at the description of him she’d used since the Blight and planted a kiss on her crown, taking in her scent of sage and elderberries.

“I know. But I’m _your_ miserable, selfish bastard,” he said quietly.

They rode into the valley in silence. The horses (and nuggalope) were left in a small grove about a mile from the Temple itself, far enough away that they would not be in danger should Erik’s claims reveal themselves be true and they end up in the air. Aedan was not really looking forward to that part of the experience. He was ready to fight for his life, but flying was a bit too much, to be quite honest with himself. He helped Morrigan down from her horse and gathered up with the rest of the Inner Circle.

“Alright. Move fast, move low. The longer Corypheus is unaware of our presence, the better,” Evelyn ordered. Aedan nodded and cracked a knot out of his neck, moving as quickly as he could under the frosted underbrush.

“Ev, have you called the dragon?” Erik asked. She nodded and adjusted her staff on her back.

“It’s here. It’s just awaiting my word,” she confirmed, “I told it about the missing eye. Should give it an advantage against Corypheus’s pet.”

“Good,” Hawke murmured, her daggers already out and loosely dangling from her hands as she moved next to Isabela, “We’re going to need all the advantage we can get.”

They continued up the slope in silence until Bull threw his hand up to the rest of the Inner Circle from where he was leading the group. They moved behind cover and glanced at the scene before them.

Corypheus was tossing about a handful of Inquisition Scouts like ragdolls. They weren’t even putting up much of a fight. Each time they would right themselves from the thrashing they’d received, Corypheus would follow up with something equally as brutal. When they did finally recover entirely, he brought forth several terror demons from the Fade. One cut down a scout almost without effort, shearing through his armor as though it were butter. Another was bearing down on a redheaded dwarf – the Chief Scout, Harding, Aedan thought she was called. It was only a couple meters in front of her, scrambling at the dwarf at breakneck speed.

It was stopped with two cracks and fell to the stones like a sack of potatoes dropped from a cart. The remainder of the Inner Circle sprung out of their cover at the sound; Cassandra drove her blade clean through a terror demon and continued moving, and Isabela threw a dagger at another, and it buried itself in the demon’s skull as it went down. Solas froze a terror solid, allowing Bull to swing a wide berth with his hammer and shatter it to pieces. The surviving scouts were able to scramble out of the way and retreat from the monster standing in the ruined archway of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The Magister let out a deep, rumbling chuckle and threw his arms wide, dipping at the waist in a sanctimonious bow.

“ **I knew you would come,** ” he said in greeting to Evelyn. Aedan watched her grip her staff tightly in her hand, though out of fear or rage he couldn’t say.

“It ends here, Corypheus, one way or another," she barked, the energy of the Fade gathering in her staff and in her hands.

" **And so it shall** ," he smirked, his Orb, once hanging above his head, returning to his clawed hand. He made a waving motion, and the stones crumbled around them. The Temple of Sacred Ashes, its surrounding buildings, and the ruins of Haven all began to move, first slowly, then more rapidly. Aedan adjusted his stance as the ground pushed up against him, the rest of the Inner Circle stumbling along with him. Only Erik seemed unaffected, though he did mention jumping out of flying objects as part of his job, so it was to be expected. To the rest of the Inquisition present, however, the fact that the ruins surrounding them were drifting upward toward the Breach was quite a shock. As everyone regained their footing, Corypheus began to speak again, his voice echoing over the retreating mountaintops.

" **You have been most successful in foiling my plans, but let us not forget what you are,** ” he rumbled, “ **A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time. An interloper. A _gnat_. We shall prove here, once and for all, which of us is worthy of godhood**."

“You aren’t proving anything by spewing empty words,” Evelyn snapped in defiance. Aedan reached for Vigilance, drawing it into his offhand, before pulling Starfang from its scabbard. It hummed as the hardened leather scraped itself against the flat of the blade in the harmonious way it always did, the star metal singing as it awakened from its slumber and prepared to rend flesh.

Corypheus merely snarled menacingly as he gazed down at them. The stones above him rumbled with weight, and the dragon clawed its way toward them above its master. It moved slowly, studying each and every one of them carefully as though choosing which was the easiest prey. Its remaining eye fell on Aedan, for some odd reason. A mistake it would learn to regret rather quickly if it decided to stick with him. He twirled the blades in his wrists to loosen them up, then brought his weight on the balls of his toes, preparing to strike the dragon just as it prepared to strike him.

The opportunity came for neither of them. A second shrieking roar like metal shrinking as it froze came rushing toward them, full of rage and territorial challenge. A yellow-golden dragon came smashing into Corypheus’s pet on its blind side, claws outstretched to wrap around its neck as its jaws sunk around its spine. The Guardian let its momentum carry it forward, yanking the red lyrium dragon along with it almost comically. The red lyrium dragon was tossed over the ledge with a clipped scream, the Guardian of Mythal observing its tumble for a brief moment before spreading its wings and leaping off the ledge after it.

Corypheus stared at the sight in shock, his mouth agape. He turned back to the group, his face twisted in rage at their defiance.

“ **You _dare_** ,” he growled in rage, his hands trembling.

Erik stepped forward lazily, his hand resting on the grip of his rifle – which Aedan was still hoping Erik could replicate, should they survive the ordeal they were about to face.

“Enough talk. You’ve made quite a few powerful people very, very angry,” he yelled up at Corypheus, “You ready to die, fucker?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Hail the Apocalypse by Avatar - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKe8jze56Vg


	63. Black Wings and Withering Gloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan confronts a poor excuse for an Archdemon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the Inquisition's final confrontation with Corypheus.
> 
> Boilerplate legal disclaimer blah blah

“ **A dragon. How very clever of you** ,” Corypheus shouted as he launched a continuous beam of angry red magic at them, “ **It will avail you nothing. You will fall as a warning to those who oppose my divine will.** ”

Solas had jumped in front of them just as the beam was about to strike them all; he threw up a shimmering blue barrier that absorbed most of the energy, though the heat still seared beneath the wall of magic the god had drawn forth. Morrigan and Vivienne were there next to him to bolster the protective layer, but Erik made eye contact with Solas. He was doing nearly all the work. The Dread Wolf’s power was returning, if slowly, and there was no purpose in hiding it for this battle.

As soon as Corypheus’s assault had ended, Solas dropped the barrier; the Inner Circle scattered in different directions. Cole vanished from sight and reappeared climbing the crags of rock that stuck out of the ruins, rushing his way toward Corypheus as he backed further up and further into the ruin. Sera shot two arrows at Corypheus’s flank, delayed by a short bit. The Magister deflected the first projectile with a smirk, but did not react to the second in time. It exploded against his corrupted skin and threw him backward into a wall, where Rainier, Bull, and Cassandra were there to wail at him. Their assault lasted only a few seconds. The Conductor roared in anger and flung them all back. Rainier hit a wall and rolled away, while Cassandra and Bull fared slightly better, regaining their footing before stumbling down the rubble of a staircase. Dorian and Evelyn were throwing spell after spell at their opponent while Vivienne and Morrigan were working in tandem to call up a blizzard to keep the Magister backed into a corner. Their mutual attacks only succeeded in keeping him immobile, but it was all Erik and Varric needed. They dropped behind cover and shouldered their weapons, sighting in the Darkspawn. Erik shot three rounds at him, while Varric was more conservative with his round usage and shot merely one. Varric was the smarter of the two; two of Erik’s bullets shattered against Corypheus’s hardened red lyrium growths, while one struck him in the abdomen. Varric’s bolt, however, hit its mark. It drove itself deep into the Magister’s neck. He spluttered in pain and clawed for the bolt, yanking it out of his throat and sealing it up with twisted healing magic. He threw relentless bursts of magic out at the Inner Circle; those able to find cover were saved from the assault. But Isabela, Hawke, Cassandra, and Dorian were all struck, going down with gasps and grunts. Corypheus moved further up into the ruins.

Erik cursed and drew himself from his position and moved for his fallen comrades. They couldn’t afford to wait. If they could heal them right then and there, they stood a better chance. He and Varric sprinted toward Isabela and Hawke and reached into their potion belts, Erik pouring one down Isabela’s throat and Varric pouring another into Hawke’s mouth. Their burns began to dissipate, looking less ugly and angry with each passing second.

“Thanks,” Isabela sighed in relief as Erik helped her up. He nodded and glanced toward where Cassandra and Dorian were being helped by Bull and Sera. The two warriors stumbled upright and began to move toward where Corypheus had fled, their own pain apparently a second thought in the face of their enemy.

“So. Shooting him in the neck doesn’t work,” Varric grumbled, retrieving the arrow from where Corypheus had dropped it and cleaning it of the Blighted blood, “Any new ideas?”

“He can’t keep this up forever,” Hawke panted, “Old men need to take naps, after all.”

Erik nodded. “Wear him down. Back him into a corner. That’s how we win this thing. Wait – what do you mean ‘old men’? I’m as old as he is.”

“I mean what I said,” Hawke shrugged, “I bet you fight the urge to nap in a chair sometimes.”

“That’s…” Erik let an angry breath of air out through his nose, “Fuck you.”

“All joking aside, that’s our plan, then? Kill the dragon and corner Corypheus?” Varric asked. Erik nodded at the dwarf.

“A cornered animal fights the hardest,” Solas reminded him as he approached, “I hope you remember that.”

Erik grimaced at Solas’s astute comment and glanced up at where the rest of the Inner Circle was quickly advancing upward toward Corypheus’s new position. He knew Solas was right, but even still…

“We don’t have a choice,” he concluded heavily, “He’s not really even trying. He’s stalling to get the Breach open to the point where we can’t close it. We need to wear him down, even if it kills us.”

“And the dragon?” Isabela asked.

Erik gazed up into the sky where the two winged beasts were clashing for supremacy. The Guardian raked its claws along the chest of the red lyrium dragon, which roared in pain and spat a burst of red-hot fire at its adversary. It dodged and moved back to the false Archdemon’s blind side, belching white flames at the neck. The red lyrium dragon dodged it and bit into the Guardian’s shoulder, throwing it across the sky; it righted itself quickly and launched itself at the red lyrium dragon’s chest as sprays of dragon blood, tainted and untainted, began to fall to the rocks below. They clashed on and on in the sky – whether driven either by instinct or knowledge of what they fighting over, Erik couldn’t say. But he knew the fate of their fight lay not in them, but the outcome of the battle above them.

“Let’s just hope our friend up there can do enough damage to give us the upper hand.”

* * *

Aedan passingly noticed the remainder of the Inner Circle moving up to the open area where they were clashing against a wave of demons while Corypheus himself cowered behind rocks, untouchable by them in his current position. Coward. He should come out and fight them directly. But that wouldn’t happen. The Magister was weak, in truth, and he knew it just as well as they did. Him against all of them? It was an unfair fight, at least once the dragon was dead. But that was the key, wasn’t it? The dragon needed to die, or they were fighting against the tide. And until the Guardian either killed it or they finished the job, there was no point fighting Corypheus directly.

Aedan pushed the thought from his mind and drew Vigilance across a despair demon’s throat just as he drove Starfang through a Shade. He felt the familiar, comforting feeling of Morrigan’s magic around him as a protective barrier shimmered around his skin. The claws of a pride demon deflected off the magic harmlessly, and Aedan dropped to a knee and slashed the monster’s calf. It went down with a roar and he rolled between its legs, righting himself to see Rainier dropping from a pillar to drive his blade down the pride demon’s neck and into its chest cavity; it died with a gurgle and collapsed forward, throwing Thom forward and allowing him to yank his weapon free as he launched himself back into battle, bashing his shield into a Terror just before it could claw into the ground. He drove the demon into a wall and ducked as Bull’s hammer came around in an arc of death and fury, flattening the Terror’s head into the stones.

Aedan let himself have a smile. He was _definitely_ keeping Rainier. None of the other branches were having that man.

He moved back into the fray, throwing himself toward his wife as she fended off a rage demon and an Arcane Horror. He covered her back as she dueled against the Horror and deflected the blow from the rage demon as it came around to attack her exposed back. It growled in anger at Aedan and he calmly swung his blades into its midsection and head; it dissipated into ichor without another sound. Morrigan let out a scream behind him, and Aedan’s heart dropped into his stomach briefly as he spun toward her.

His fear was misplaced. She had cracked the Arcane Horror across the head, and when it went down in a heap, she placed the back of her staff against its head and released pure, unrefined magic out the base. Its head exploded and the body twitched once, then went still. Aedan breathed a sigh of relief and stepped over the Horror’s corpse, replacing Starfang with his shield to protect Morrigan as she threw more spells at the demons surrounding them.

Three cracks from the ruined stairs announced the arrival of Erik, moving smoothly as he shouldered his rifle and shot into the various groups of demons around the ruined area. He felled a shade and a fearling before switching to his blades and rushing into the fray beside Sera.

Hawke arrived.

Aedan may have been a more experienced and aggressive fighter, but Marian Hawke was unquestionably faster. In the blink of an eye, she had cut down four demons and was moving on to her fifth. She switched her grip on her offhand dagger and drove it backward into the gaping face of a Shade before ducking and cutting a despair demon in half. Aedan briefly marveled at her speed and intelligence in the fray, remembering how well Bethany fought in close quarters despite her being a mage. He suddenly understood who had taught her.

Then, suddenly, it was over. No more demons came screaming toward them. The only sounds were the rushing wind around them, the Breach above them, and the two dragons still fighting above. The Inner Circle was bloody, battered, and exhausted, but they were all still standing, and that was what mattered. Each one of them downed a set of potions and took a small moment to breathe before they threw themselves back at the Magister. Evelyn was already gathering people to move upward in the ruins. Aedan was about to head toward her, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around to see Erik’s glowing eyes, contrasting against the clouded night sky. The spirit-man shook his head and pointed upward toward the dragons; Aedan gazed upward at the battle further into the sky. The dragons were wearing themselves down, that much was certain. Their movements were just a bit slower, and both the beasts had clear wounds scattering their bodies. The Guardian had at least one gaping bite mark on its flank, while the red lyrium dragon had long, deep gashes along its chest toward its belly. Still they fought, climbing higher and higher into the sky.

Then, suddenly, after dodging a burst of fire from the false Archdemon, the Guardian began to flee upward toward the Breach. Aedan’s heart fell as their winged ally broke from its fight and headed for the tear in the Veil. Corypheus’s pet shrieked in triumph and chased after it, and the two beasts climbed higher and higher toward the swirling green clouds.

“This is it,” Erik said beside him, “Get ready to fight the thing.”

“What are you talking about? It’s fleeing,” Aedan returned in confusion. Erik shook his head.

“Not fleeing. Gaining air,” he turned his gaze toward his sister, “Evelyn! Get everyone not immune to the Blight and go after Corypheus!”

“What? Why?”

Cole, Vivienne, and Rainier gathered next to Aedan and Erik, readying their weapons as each of them understood what the Guardian was doing above them. Realization suddenly dawned on Aedan as he grinned in delight.

“We have a dragon to kill,” he called, readying both his blades and replacing his shield on his back.

As if on cue, their dragon twisted in midair, just a hair from the Breach. It let out an unholy roar of fury and tucked its wings as it dove at the red lyrium dragon, still a hundred meters beneath it. Corypheus’s pet seemed to realize what was happening too late. The Guardian slammed into its chest with full force, driving both beasts down at alarming speed. Mythal’s boon clawed and tore at the false Archdemon as it screamed in agony. Aedan turned toward Morrigan.

“Go,” he barked, brokering no argument. She did not fight him; Morrigan Fade-stepped toward the rest of the group as they fled the flat area they had just battled on. They moved up the next set of stairs and slopes toward where Corypheus had fled. As soon as they had vanished from sight, the sound of combat began, followed by the sound of a man screaming in pain as they went down. Aedan pushed the sound from his mind and glanced back up at the sky and the falling dragons. Whoever was injured could be helped by killing Corypheus’s key to immortality.

“Plan?” he asked.

“You, Thom, and Cole get in close,” Erik said as he moved away from the group with their mage, “Vivienne and I will help from afar. If you can keep it still long enough, I’ll try and put its other eye out.”

“Is that the wisest plan, darling? I’m a Knight-Enchanter,” Vivienne protested. Aedan shook his head.

“We have three blades. We need a mage, not a fourth. I’ll call for you if we get cornered, but I don’t see that happening,” he ordered. Vivienne nodded and followed Erik, and the two of them scrambled toward higher ground.

Aedan turned back toward the sky and motioned for the remaining three warriors to spread out. He estimated the amount of time until the dragon met the stones. It wouldn’t be long. Perhaps five seconds.

Four. They got more space between them.

Three. The Guardian still hadn’t relented its assault.

Two. It clawed the false Archdemon’s leathery wings open, crippling its flight just before it began to take off.

One.

The red lyrium dragon smashed into the rocks, cracking the stone and kicking up a cloud of dust. The sound of thunder snapped through the air, rolling off the pillars and crumbling walls around them and echoing off the mountains below and clouds above. The platform swayed briefly, throwing them all off balance.

Their ally spread its wings and just barely missed the ground, knocking down a pillar in the process. Aedan, Thom, and Cole hit the ground as its belly brushed where their heads were just moments before. But it had granted them one more boon: its close pass had blown away the dust the crash had caused, freeing up their vision and revealing the half-crippled form of the red lyrium dragon to them. Aedan sprung up to see the Guardian coming back in for another attack, but he waved it off, hoping it understood. It had done its job. It was their prey now.

The dragon understood. It flew to the mountains below, no doubt to recover and lick its wounds. Aedan rolled his shoulders and glanced at the Blighted beast before him. It was certainly large, just as he remembered in the Arbor Wilds. But its wings were shredded to bits, and that was the least of its injuries. Horrible burns dotted its body, a vertebra was visible at the base of its neck, and it was losing blood as it stumbled to its feet. Its jaw, too, was at an odd angle.

He didn’t give it a chance to recover fully. Aedan sprinted toward the dragon, determined to be its death. Just as he did, the dragon recognized him, breathing a stream of fire at him. But it was no Archdemon, and its flames were not those of an Old God. He launched into a roll, dodging the flames as they licked at his heels before springing upright and driving Vigilance into its neck. The dragon roared in pain and Aedan rolled away to let Cole leap over him, driving twin daggers into the base of his neck. Blackwall swung at the beast’s foot, determined to immobilize it further as a freezing blast came from the rocks above. The dragon spat at Vivienne before swiping Cole off its back and swatting Blackwall aside with its tail. The rogue and warrior recovered quickly and moved back to attack. Cole dodged another burst of fire while Thom batted another strike from its tail aside; Aedan heard Rainier’s arm snap from the effort, but the freshly minted Warden merely gritted his teeth and pressed on. He drove his sword deep into his hip before being kicked aside, leaving the blade behind. Aedan slashed at the dragon’s neck and dodged its maw just as Cole yanked Rainier’s sword free and threw it back to him; he drove a dagger into the wound left behind and worked at it. The false Archdemon roared in pain and unbridled rage, kicking out with the last of its strength at the spirit boy. Its feet raked against his stomach, shimmering red blood pouring onto the rocks. His eyes went wide in pain and he stumbled away, his arms over his fresh wound.

Spirit in origin though he was, Aedan knew that Cole could die just as any other living being. They had a very short amount of time before he would bleed out. But Cole’s sacrifice was enough: it had slowed the dragon. Aedan backed away from its head as it took a breath. He only prayed it was slow enough for Erik to take his shot.

It was. A single crack echoed off the rocks, and the right eye of the dragon exploded. It reared backward in pain and let out a bloodcurdling scream as it flapped its tattered wings in vain. But it recovered quickly, dropping back down and inhaling deeply, relying on smell rather than sight. Its head whipped around in quick semicircles, searching for a target, until it found one.

Aedan.

In a last ditch effort and a burst of speed, it bounded toward him, breath rattling in its jaw. He didn’t have time to bring his shield around to defend, so Aedan did one thing he had hoped he would never need to do again. He called upon Avernus’s potion – the one he drank during the Blight in a desperate act to gather enough power to face Urthemiel. Instantly, he was filled with nausea that turned into a headrush. Everything seemed sharper, clearer, and he could feel the blood rushing violently in his veins. Unholy strength coursed through his veins, and he plunged his weapons into their scabbards, planted one foot behind him, and prepared for the dragon’s strike.

It unfolded just as he had predicted. The dragon snapped at his upper body, and Aedan gripped both parts of its jaws separately in his hands. He strained against the dying beast’s strength, still great even in its death throes, as he willed the jaws to stay open. For a brief moment, it was a battle of raw brawn – his against the dragon’s. Aedan strained against the monster’s might, feeling his tendons straining to their tearing point. The pain was unimaginable as his muscles screamed in agony and his bones protested weakly against the effort. The beast pushed him back in the rubble, moving him further and further to the edge of the platform. Aedan knew his strength wasn’t enough. He was going to die.

Then its foot slipped on a boulder, and the dragon stumbled. Aedan saw his window.

He pushed further and further, ignoring the exhaustion and all warning signs his body gave him. He forced the dragon’s jaw open as it began to inhale to breathe flames at him – too late. With a creak, a snap, and then a crunch, Aedan pushed the dragon’s jaw clean open, forcing it back toward its neck and out of its joint. His muscles breathed in relief at the sudden reprieve from the strength of the monster’s maw and he pulled the jaw clean from its head. It cracked in two, its tongue lolling limply into the dirt without the support of its shattered jaw. Aedan grinned wickedly as Blighted blood splattered his face and the dragon’s rattling breaths became more labored, a weak, whimpering sound emerging from its ruined throat. Then he drew both his blades and drove them upward into the soft palate of Corypheus’s pet, not stopping until he saw the tips glimmering above the top of its skull, clean through the monster’s brain.

The dragon jerked with Aedan’s motion, then went limp. He withdrew his blades and returned them to their scabbards. He grabbed the greying teeth of the now-dead dragon and, with a quick glance behind him to check his footing, began to pull the mass. He knew he only had a few more moments before the abilities he’d gained from Avernus wore off, and he would be a drained mess, no use to anyone.

But a few seconds was enough. With one final grunt, Aedan twisted in place and threw the dragon’s limp head over the ledge. The rest of its broken body followed, and it fell down to the mountains below. Aedan stumbled back to the center of the platform, the potion’s abilities gone and replaced with exuberant triumph. He was covered in blood from head to toe, his arms too weak to even draw his blades, but it did not matter. The dragon was dead. He had done his job. Corypheus could be killed. He briefly noticed Blackwall limping toward him in shock even as Erik and Vivienne rushed to heal Cole where he lay, the boy’s breath weak. But it was all distant for Aedan as he gazed up at the platform where his wife and the rest of the Inner Circle did battle with the now-mortal Magister.

Aedan let out a laugh of defiance and triumph as his knees collapsed underneath him. He could hear the false Archdemon’s corpse crash into the snow below. Just as it did, he heard the Conductor let out a bellow of pain and fury as something snapped in the air.

* * *

Cole was not in good shape. His breathing was labored and his skin was paler than it normally was. But he would live. Vivienne assured him of that, at least.

“It hurts,” Cole said breathily as Vivienne sealed the wound shut. She pursed her lips and gazed at the spirit boy.

“I know it does. Do your best to ignore it,” she responded, clearly not happy she was healing a ‘demon’.

Cole shook his head. “I’m happy it hurts. It means I’m human.”

Erik smiled at Compassion and patted his shoulder. The spirit breathed a sigh of relief as the last inch of the gash on his belly stitched itself shut.

“You gave me the window I needed to blind the dragon,” Erik said, “Thank you.”

“Of course. That’s what I do. I help,” Cole paused, “But I don’t think I can help any more today.”

“You’ve done more than enough, bud,” Erik reassured, turning as Rainier approached him. Erik grabbed the man’s broken arm and yanked it to set the bone. Thom let out a groan of pain and uncorked a healing potion, drinking it down and sitting next to Cole in exhaustion.

“Is he going to be okay?” Erik asked, jerking his head back to where Aedan sat against a boulder, his head lolling on his shoulder. Rainier nodded.

“He’ll be okay. Just overexerted himself. Never seen anything like that,” he said. Erik stood.

“Probably the potion from Avernus, if I had to guess,” he shrugged. But Thom was right. Erik doubted he would ever see anything like it again. Aedan’s face had flushed and his veins in his face had bulged until nose had bled, and that was just the physical things that had happened to him. Then he’d yanked the dragon’s jaw clean free of its face, stabbed it through the brain, and thrown it down into the Frostbacks below. It was the most impressive feat of strength he’d ever seen, and, if he were being honest with himself, it made his man-crush on Aedan grow just a bit more. It was about as close to a piece of Frank Frazetta art Erik had ever seen, and it was by far the most metal thing he had ever witnessed in his life.

He pushed the thoughts aside and stood. Corypheus had screamed in rage and pain not long after the dragon had hit the ground – a sound Erik imagined could be heard all the way in Skyhold. Something had snapped in the air, like a string between the Magister and the dragon had been severed. Erik knew Corypheus could be killed.

“Stay with them,” he told Rainier, “Vivienne is going to need help when this thing comes down. Remember, when it does–”

“Yes, yes, lay down and protect our necks,” Vivienne waved her hand, “I’ll tend to them. Go help the Inquisitor.”

Erik nodded and sprinted up the final staircase and toward his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Black Wings and Withering Gloom by Satyricon - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LepilTyS_bA


	64. Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The death of Corypheus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert boilerplate disclaimer here.

Corypheus had lost his immortality. That much was clear. They had heard a crash not long after they’d moved up to the final level of the ruins, then a second crash minutes later, and then Corypheus screamed in agony and rage. So it was clear whatever had happened down below, the dragon was killed, and Corypheus had become mortal. That was not her worry.

Her worry was that he was fighting like a rabid dog backed into a corner. Which, she considered, he essentially was. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to retreat from them. All he could do was take them out, one by one. Which he was succeeding in doing. He had seriously wounded Dorian not long after they had crested the final staircase, and Bull had immediately pulled him to safety. It was doubtful he would die of his injury, but he would certainly have a rather large burn scar on his body. So they were down their heaviest hitter and an extremely skilled mage, and they would not be returning to the fray.

The rest of the Inner Circle was not faring well, either. The closer to the Breach they got, the worse Evelyn’s marked hand was acting up, and it was affecting her magic. Cassandra had broken several ribs, Sera’s foot had been shattered, and Hawke had taken half of a blow for Isabela that would have killed the pirate, taking them both out of the fight, though they would both survive, thank the Maker.

The only three that were not injured beyond surface wounds were Solas, Morrigan, and Varric, who had taken position in the crags and crevices of the area and was taking shots where he could. Which, honestly, was not very often. Corypheus had deflected most of his bolts, though he had managed to get a few through to his abdomen and his leg, slowing him down quite a bit. Evelyn couldn’t count on the Wardens, Cole, or Erik to come to their aid, either. She had no idea how they fared down below with the dragon. The fact was, they were being worn down, bit by bit, and Solas had informed her not a minute prior that the Breach was nearing critical mass – the point where she could no longer close it, even with the help of the orb. If that happened, it would not matter if they managed to kill Corypheus. The world would end and be plunged into unending chaos.

She deflected another burst of magic from the Magister, albeit just barely, and Morrigan took the opportunity to throw stones at the back of his head. It was enough to knock him off balance, which was enough for Varric to launch off a burst of bolts from Bianca, filling him like a pincushion. Evelyn rushed in to slash him with her staff blade and Fade-stepped away to safety as Corypheus rose to his feet.

As he did so, his chest became littered with bullets as a hail of cracks came from the stairs.

“We killed your dragon, dickhead,” her brother called, “I’ll ask you again: ready to die?”

Erik moved up the final flight of stairs and reinserted a magazine before diving behind cover; Corypheus launched a hail of spells in his direction, though only a handful directly connected. She heard Erik grunt in pain as the hail of magical shards struck him.

“ **You, ‘Champion’. You have been a nuisance since your arrival in this world. I think I will keep you alive, if only so you can watch as I slowly kill your dear Spymaster** ,” Corypheus said through grit teeth, “ **How shall I do it? Perhaps flaying? Or shall I make her a Broodmother, instead?** ”

That was the exact wrong thing to say to Erik. He sprung from cover, his eyes no longer holding any semblance of humanity as he sprinted for the Magister, blades drawn. Corypheus swiped at the spirit made man, but he ducked beneath the attack and lay a flurry of attacks on the Darkspawn. One after another, Erik let loose on the Conductor, seemingly uncaring of the blows that he took in return. Corypheus swatted him aside time after time, only for Erik to rise back up and dodge his next attack and lay another several cuts deep into his body. Eventually, the Magister had clearly had enough. He swatted Erik aside with a clawed hand, sending her brother into a wall – but not before Erik drove his shortsword clean through Corypheus’s gnarled stomach.

The Magister let out a roar of pain at Erik’s defiance and turned from where Erik now lay against the stones, blood trickling from his face from four deep gash marks, running from his now-ruined left ear to just before his mouth. The Darkspawn let out a final burst of magic and threw them all back and away from him. Evelyn felt her head crack against a stone, and her vision went black for a brief moment.

" **Let it end here! Let the skies boil! Let the world be rent asunder!** " she heard Corypheus call to the skies. Evelyn found herself next to her brother, her sight swimming from her collision with the stones. She blinked the double-vision away and glanced at her brother. His arm was broken, a rib stuck from his chest, and the gashes were much deeper than she first thought – he would have scars for the rest of his life, if they even survived at all. He was conscious still, and turned his gaze from her to the Orb in Corypheus’s twisted hand.

She suddenly understood what she had to do. On shaky legs, she stood and moved for Corypheus. There was a sparking in her hand, and she knew it was not from the Breach. The Orb had created the Anchor, in the beginning; it would call to her. She knew it would.

Evelyn outstretched her hand and pushed all her will through the Mark. And the Orb responded. It sparked from red to Fade green, pulling in Corypheus’s hand. His eyes went wide for a moment as he wrestle with the sphere, unsure what was happening. Then his eyes fell on Evelyn and her outstretched hand. He attempted a spell, but it fizzled in his hands, all his focus reverting to keeping control of the Orb. Evelyn pushed harder, her head splitting from the effort.

“ **Not like this. I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the Ages...** " he struggled with the Orb as it jerked violently toward Evelyn. Still she pushed, determined to wrest it from his grasp.

“ **Dumat! Ancient Ones! I beseech you. If you exist – if you ever truly existed – aid me now.** "

In the end, they were the final words said by the man that started the Blights. The Elvhen artifact flung itself from his hands, smashing his jaw to pieces as it did so. He let out a grunt of pain and fell to his knees, blackened blood seeping from his mouth and the sword in his belly.

And then the Orb was Evelyn’s. She gazed at it as it floated slightly above her palm. The amount of power in it was immense. More than anything she had ever felt in her life. She realized that the power was not Corypheus’s. It never was. It was the Orb’s all along. Without it, the Darkspawn was nothing more than that – a Darkspawn Emissary that talked. And he could no longer even do that.

Evelyn gazed up at the Breach, growing ever larger and ever closer. And with the same burst of will she had used the first time, she willed the Breach to _close_.

For the rest of her life, she would try to describe the power she held in her hands in that moment, and she would fail. She suddenly understood the power of the Ancients, why Solas lamented the loss of Elvhenan. It was like all the magic of the world was coursing through her as she pointed the Orb to the Breach. No Circle Mage could even comprehend what she could do with it. It was as ubiquitous as the ocean and equally unrelenting. It threatened to consume her, unmake her and remake her, and then unmake the world. But she did not allow it. She forced it all into the Breach, in a single jet of green light that shot into the sky, its sole job to seal the hole in the Veil.

And seal the Breach it did. With a deafening crack, the green in the sky began to fade. Evelyn knew the job was done. The Orb dropped from her hand and she walked on legs that were not hers toward where Corypheus knelt before her, his eyes full of defeat and fear. As she glanced at her broken brother on the rocks behind them, she felt rage unlike anything she had ever felt in her life. The being before her had attempted to remake the world, not knowing what he was truly doing, in a bid for power that he could never attain. But he was willing to destroy everything in the attempt. He had irrevocably changed her life and the lives of everyone around her, had killed tens of thousands, and had destroyed at least one ancient order in his rampage of destruction. The chaos he had sown was so great that a man had been brought from another world to aid in his destruction. She had never truly hated anyone before. But gazing down at the broken form of Corypheus, she knew hate.

“You wanted into the Fade?” she growled in a trembling voice, barely restrained by the concentration his execution would take. She raised her marked hand and opened a tiny rift inside the Magister’s body, then another, and another. She pushed and pushed, her hand screaming in agony until the pain jumped to her arm, then her shoulder, until it overtook her entire body as she opened thousands of tiny rifts inside Corypheus, eating him from the inside out. She knew her pain was nothing compared to what her foe was feeling.

For the Conductor of Silence was not silent then. He screamed. Gone was the defeat in his eyes. All that was left was pain, and for a brief moment it seemed that the sole thing the Darkspawn before her was made of was pain. He jerked in place, his body convulsing as his arms collapsed inward first, then his legs. His neck came next, his head being yanked down into his sternum. His chest collapsed next, and then his skull.

In one final motion, the Enemy of Thedas collapsed completely inward, his body torn asunder and scattered throughout the Fade. And then the pain in her body took over. She collapsed, a scream on her lips as she cradled her hand. The Anchor sparked and jumped angrily, protesting against the stress she had just put it under. But she could do nothing to calm it. Only time would work.

Pain was not the only thing she had to worry about. With the Breach gone and Corypheus destroyed, the Temple of Sacred Ashes began to fall. Worse, her brother still lay in the rocks not ten feet away, broken and dying. She crawled next to him and placed her good hand against his chest wounds, willing them to close with all the magic she had left in her. He gasped in shock as his rib righted itself and shot back into his body, his lung reinflating. She moved to his face next, sealing the gashes as best she could. She could feel them falling, could see the stones crashing around her, but she did not care. She couldn’t bear seeing her brother in the state he was in. Even when she had given everything she could give, she pushed still, willing to tap into her own life if she had to.

Erik grabbed her wrist to stop her. He gave her a small, tired, weak smile and wrapped his hand around hers.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice barely an exhausted whisper, “It’s over. You can rest.”

She tried to protest, but Erik laid his head back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of fresh air as they fell. And there was nothing for Evelyn to do but lay beside him, his hand still clasped around hers, and gaze up at the retreating sky as they fell.

The last thing she recalled seeing was a pair of scaled claws.

* * *

Erik awoke next to his sister, his face still stinging from Corypheus’s clawed strike. The Anchor had calmed significantly, though judging from the sky, it had been hours: dawn was just beginning to break in the distance. He felt hot breath next to his face and he sat up weakly to find the source.

The Guardian of Mythal sat next to them. Erik felt himself smile. So it had survived. It gazed at him with intelligent eyes – more intelligent than some people he had known in his life. Silent words were said between them, though what they were, Erik couldn’t say. The dragon glanced down at Evelyn’s still unconscious form and then turned to the sky, spreading its wings. With two strong beats and a forceful kick, it took off into the morning clouds.

The sudden disturbance of air was enough to wake Evelyn. Her eyes shot open and she sat upwards quickly, then winced and rubbed her marked hand. She glanced around, then upward at the dragon, staring at it in awe as it left. His sister turned her gaze toward him.

“Did it…?” she asked, not finishing the question. Erik understood what she was asking regardless.

“Yeah,” Erik nodded, “I think it did.”

He stood slowly and helped Evelyn to her feet, then glanced around at the mess the battle had caused. The Temple was even more a ruin than it was before, its stones twice as broken and the ground shattered to pieces. Boulders lay everywhere, one sitting where they had lay when the battle had ended. In the distance, the broken corpse of the false Archdemon lay in a snow drift, broken trees surrounding where it had crashed into the ground. The sky, too, was marred. Tendrils of green light snaked through the morning grey like thin aurora, the Veil just that much weaker after so much strain.

Footsteps approached. Evelyn and Erik turned toward their source and found Solas, approaching tenderly as he gazed with a heartbroken look at a spot on the ground. He knelt and picked up two pieces of stone.

Not stone. The Orb. Solas’s Orb lay shattered and broken, no longer of use to anyone, least of all its former master. The ancient elf dipped his head in sorrow and broken defeat.

"Solas?" Evelyn asked curiously.

"The orb," he responded simply. Evelyn’s face twisted in regret at the loss of the artifact. Erik’s heart twisted in fury.

"I know you wanted the orb saved. I'm so sorry," she said meekly. Solas stood, leaving the broken pieces where they lay.

"It is not your fault."

Evelyn frowned in confusion. It was clear things weren’t quite making sense to her.

"There's more, isn't there?" she asked tentatively.

"It was not supposed to happen this way," Solas responded in a shaky breath. He glanced out over the Temple, then turned back toward them.

"No matter what comes, I want you to know you shall both always have my respect," he said, his voice holding a tone of farewell. Erik gazed at the ancient god, his eyes full of stony fury. Solas merely returned the stare and began to walk away.

“What–”

Erik stopped his sister and shook his head. She frowned at him, then stared back at the broken Orb. Her face was full of confusion, which, Erik supposed, made sense. They’d won, hadn’t they? Why was Solas acting so defeated?

"Inquisitor? Are you alive?" Cassandra’s voice called. Evelyn turned her head up at the Seeker’s voice and began limping toward the sound. Erik wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and together they supported each other as they hobbled their way out of the ruined Temple, leaving the Dread Wolf behind.

They picked their way down the stairs and toward the remainder of the Inner Circle, who were all looking as bad as Evelyn and Erik. Cassandra had a hand over her ribs, half her face swollen shut. The entire left side of Dorian’s body was burned from the neck to his waist, leaving behind a scar that would remain, even with the most extensive healing. Aedan stood weakly against his wife, still exhausted from his ordeal with the dragon. Marian and Isabela were both broken, too, with Isabela’s leg in a splint and Marian’s arm in a sling, her nose broken. Cole’s waist was wrapped in bandages from where he was eviscerated by the red lyrium dragon, though his pallor was looking significantly better. Sera’s foot was wrapped, likely from being crushed. Varric’s leg, too, was in a splint, and he walked with a makeshift crutch. Rainier's arm, though healed, was still tender. In fact, the only ones to come out largely unscathed were Morrigan, Bull, and Vivienne.

“Well,” Morrigan drawled, “You survive. What a _novel_ result.”

“And the Breach is gone. The skies are calm, healed, healthy,” Cole said weakly.

“Is Corypheus…” Cassandra asked.

“Dead,” Evelyn confirmed, “I made sure of it.”

There was a moment of silence as they all gazed at the ruins and the sky above. It was as though a weight was lifted off all their shoulders. For Erik, however, an even heavier one was put on.

“So… what now?” Bull asked. Erik grunted and pulled Evelyn along.

“We go home,” Evelyn shrugged. Erik nodded.

“I’m in agreeance with the Inquisitor on that,” he nodded, “We go the hell home and party.”

The Inner Circle followed them away from the Temple of Sacred Ashes, limping their way toward their mounts.

“And then you tell me everything,” Evelyn murmured to him, “ _Everything_.”

“I made a promise,” Erik sighed, “I’ll keep it. But for now, let’s just go home and celebrate. I have a wife to see, and you have a Commander who’s probably scared out of his mind.”

Erik glanced over his shoulder toward the Temple. Solas was nowhere to be seen. But Erik had a sinking feeling that he would be seeing him again in the very near future.

The ride back was silent, mostly. Everyone was too exhausted to even say anything to each other. They merely hobbled along the road back to Skyhold, nursing their wounds and looking forward to warm baths and warm beds.

Erik, on the other hand, was worried. There were bigger things on the board, now. Things that he had kept secret for a very long time. Evelyn would almost certainly be furious with him when she learned what they were. Leliana would probably be mad, as well, but she would understand. But he had to prepare thoroughly, regardless of what the others thought of his omission. He thought about the assets they had at their disposal and what they would have to plan for in the future.

The eluvian network, though his at the moment, would almost certainly be taken from him. Evelyn had blown that one at the Temple of Mythal. He didn’t know when Solas would come for them, but he was willing to bet his marriage that the Dread Wolf would come for the network. It would almost certainly be after his meeting with Mythal, whenever that took place. Regardless, he couldn’t count on the eluvians to be at his disposal when the time came to hunt down Solas.

He also had the _Forward Unto Dawn_ – the Qunari dreadnought he had commandeered and named after a ship from Halo. That was more a multi-purpose tool to be used against both the Qunari and Solas, but it was still available when he needed it. He would simply need to get into contact with Isabela and Hawke when the time came. Solas knew about that, as well, but he didn’t know what it was for.

He also had the list of Qunari spies, which he would be discreetly delivering to the various nations in Thedas over the next several years. Tevinter was the most important, and would also likely prove to be the most difficult to send. Archon Radonis was a shrewd man, but his trust was hard won. Erik would have to prove himself for that. Gaspard and Alistair would be much easier – he just had to speak to them. As for Nevarra, he would likely have to send the document to the Mortalitasi, as the crown did not hold the true power in that country.

But the biggest thing he was worried about was the Idol. Hawke had found it in the Deep Roads, then it had reappeared in the possession of Meredith Stannard. It vanished thereafter, but it almost certainly belonged to Solas, and would likely prove to be important when things came to a head. He would need to start searching for it with Leliana as soon as they were able. He couldn’t afford to lose track of it.

On the bright side, he didn’t have to worry about opposition from the Chantry. Cassandra was almost certainly going to be named Divine, and that meant an ally on the Sunburst Throne. He could use that to his advantage, and he would almost certainly do so. But he didn’t have to worry about that bit for at least a couple years, at the least. The decline of the Inquisition would come long before that.

The thoughts were pushed from his mind as they rode back into New Haven. Cheers and reverent crowds met them upon their return, some of them reaching for them for a blessing, others merely thanking them as their saviors. Erik smiled at the recognition, though he didn’t necessarily need it. The fact that he was alive, relatively intact, and about to see his wife was more than enough for him.

They rode up the lift, still silent in exhaustion. Bull broke the silence as they slowly ascended into Skyhold.

“So. How overboard do you think Josephine went?” he asked in an exhausted tone. A wave of chuckles rippled through the lift.

“Just overboard enough. Even if she’s just had baths drawn for us, Ruffles will permanently be an absolute treasure in my mind,” Varric croaked.

“Wait. Josie _isn’t_ already a treasure to you?” Dorian asked in confusion, “Because she was a treasure to me the first day I met her. That girl is the sweetest thing I have ever met.”

“I’m not saying she isn’t,” Varric defended, “I’m just saying she gets extra points for baths prepared.”

“She’ll have gone overboard,” Evelyn rolled her eyes, “Don’t you worry.”

They lapsed back into silence until the lift reached the bridge leading to the castle. They moved slowly from the confines of the dark chamber and back into the cold air of the Frostbacks. It was then that the realization of what had transpired crashed into Erik.

“Holy shit. We almost just fucking _died_.”

Night had fallen, and crowds of people had gathered in the courtyards to greet the Inner Circle. Together, they dismounted and returned the horses and nuggalope to Dennet and his daughter before hobbling their way up the stairs and into the upper courtyard, where the advisors were waiting on the landing at the stairwell. Morrigan and Aedan greeted Kieran, who rushed into their arms with the widest smile Erik had ever seen on a child; Sera limped over to Herah and threw her arms around the horned woman’s midsection despite the Hunters standing at attention, acting as an honor guard for the Inner Circle and Evelyn. Evelyn practically threw herself into Cullen’s arms as soon as she was able planting a deep kiss on his lips despite her disheveled state. Erik approached Leliana, who was looking both nervous and relieved to see him. He flung his arms around her and pulled her into his chest despite the aching in his ribs from his injuries, then planted a tender kiss on her lips, the crowds below a distant afterthought in his mind.

He decided to let the Dread Wolf depart from his mind, at least for a night or two. He was home, and he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named for Downfall by Children of Bodom (RIP Alexi) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJeBiNd9Cjk
> 
> Holy shit. It's done. Writing the last three chapters was not easy. And it was kind of an out of body experience. I have no other way to describe it.


End file.
